


The Eurydice Suite

by callmearcturus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Classpect Dreamers, Competence Kink, F/F, F/M, Journey to the Center of Dirk Strider's Mind, M/M, The Strilonde family is terrifyingly co-dependent, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dream-sharing. A highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. And the Strider-Lalondes are the best in the business.</p><p>Until Dirk Strider gets his fool ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, it's going to take a team of the world's most talented dreamers to save him.</p><p>Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the l8est and gr8est agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind, it's going to take a miracle to pull this one off.</p><p>  <i>Oh Orpheus, sing to me all night...</i></p><p>
  <b>(COMPLETE)</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. before the awful sound started coming down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (or: goddammit only Vriska would be this much of a problem years after her death,  
> or: Karkat Vantas is not getting paid enough for this shit,  
> or: Dave Strider and the horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day,  
> or: I WARNED YOU ABOUT PENROSE STAIRS BRO)

**> Dirk: Swallow your goddamn pride and ask for help.**

timaeusTestified [TT] began bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 02:16

TT: It happened again.  
TT: Dammit, I just realized the time.  
TT: Jane, my future depends on you being up at an un-fucking-godly hour of the night marathoning Netflix shows again.  
TT: What's the flavor of the week? Elementary? Troll Sherlock? House? Something that doesn't have a thinly veiled reference to a Baker Street?  
TT: Let's not get crazy.  
TT: Jane, answer me. I can't reach my phone right now.

GG: It was a movie, actually. How dare you cast such aspersions on my viewing habits.

TT: Which movie?

GG: ... RDJ Sherlock Holmes.  
GG: Shut up.

TT: Sorry, can't.  
TT: I need help.

GG: Oh god, what happened?  
GG: Dirk?

TT: He fucking did it again.  
TT: I was a level down, and he convinced me I was awake. I believed him because I'm a fucking idiot when I'm dreaming alone.

GG: Oh my god.  
GG: What do you want to do?

TT: I'm not sure. Right now, I just don't want to fall asleep.  
TT: I had to boot myself out of the dream early, and there's still a lot of somnacin in my system.  
TT: If I so much as sneeze too hard, I'm gonna pass out and be right back in his clutches.  
TT: Jane, what the hell do I do?

GG: You need to tell the others.  
GG: Dave and Roxy especially.  
GG: Though Roxy is still on her way back from the Amsterdam gig. Rose is visiting Dave down south.

TT: Are they working a job?  
TT: I am not distracting them from their work with this. It's my own fault.

GG: No, they're not scheduled for anything. Also... that implies you might finally be considering this.  
GG: Getting AR out of your head.  
GG: Dirk?  
GG: Did you pass out, Dirk?

TT: No.  
TT: I need help.  
TT: I can't believe I am saying this.  
TT: Jane Crocker, you are my only hope. Please come pick up my fool ass and haul me off to my family before my fucking subconscious tricks me into offing myself like the amoral sadistic shithead that he is.

GG: I am pausing on McAdams' amazing boobs, and I am getting in my car.  
GG: Dirk, it's going to be all right.  
GG: We're the best in the business and we will exorcise that jerk and salt the ground.

TT: Salting my brain doesn't seem like an especially good idea.  
TT: I'm in the room under the garage, through the trapdoor. Just come get me. I'm going to try to stay awake.

GG: I'm coming.  
GG: Everything's going to be okay.  
GG: I'll be there in an hour and a half.

TT: Drive fast.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 02:54


	2. on the other side of the water, like an echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, another, because the first was just prologue.

**> Dave: Reflect on how badly that went.**

There were few times in Dave Strider’s life when he was lost for words.

Words were kind of Dave’s thing. Hurling them around with panache and extravagant style was his favorite past time. Every idiom and turn of phrase from the dawn of civilization was within his purview. His mouth was a wrecking ball, and everyone else knew to get the hell out of his way when he was swinging that shit around.

Except today.

Today, Dave stood in the home of Jade Harley, on an island in the South Pacific, at the medical observation room adjacent to the dreamshare chamber situated under the house. It was late in the afternoon, and Dave had nothing to say as he watched through the window.

Past the reinforced glass was Dirk’s body, wearing a quiet, bored expression that somehow managed to look completely divorced from any of the quiet, bored expressions Dave knew from his brother’s face. It was an unsettling visage to witness, especially when paired with the strange way he moved, an unnatural gait of a three year old that’d seized control of an adult’s body and hadn’t figured out how to move yet.

This kind of bullshit wasn’t supposed to be possible. But then, they were Striders. The _impossible dreamers_.

Dirk’s eyes were pointed at Dave like a loaded gun. Familiar windowpane, new occupant inside. Dirk’s hand was waved at him.

Dave reached up, pushed up his glasses with his middle finger.

Dirk’s face was twisted into a smirk. Asshole.

It might’ve been an hour or three before Dave’s watch was interrupted. The door from the living room opened, and Jake leaned in, looking around. Dave could see him in the reflection in the glass, see the pinched, unhappy look on his face as he spotted Dave.

Feeling status: mutual.

“Ah, there you are. Rose said you might be down here.” Two steps closer, and Jake stopped, his hand still caught on the open door, as if he’d need a quick escape and was unwilling to really approach Dave. Maybe it was the window he was nervous about. “So, Roxy’s landed! She’s en route to the house with her friend, Calliope.”

Dave watched as Dirk’s body returned to pacing around the room.

“Uh, they’ll be here before long. What’s the drive, about fifteen minutes?” Jake chuckled. “S’pose that depends on who’s behind the wheel and their opinions on such modern devices as speed limits. Doubt Roxy’s the type of gal to cruise below fifty, myself. Always seemed a bit more inclined towards speed. Not-- not to say your sister’s fast, but… Though now I think of it, I drew that line. You didn’t. Shame on my old runaway mouth, eh?”

The bodysnatching asshole grew bored, climbing back onto the medical bed and folding Dirk’s hands behind his stolen neck. Settling in, AR shut his eyes, looking ready to sleep. Not exactly reeling from the events of the day. Arrogantly unconcerned.

“It’ll be nice to finally meet the lovely madame Roxy’s so fond of. Can’t say it’s the best of circs, though, huh?”

Dave waited long enough to see if AR had any more plans in his tiny sterile prison cell. Welcome to the conscious world, you backstabbing prick, here’s all of it you’re ever gonna see, all thirty-some square feet of it.

When his brother’s body remained still, Dave finally turned, tucking his hands in his pockets. Jake flinched, looking down and away as Dave brushed by him.

Dave didn’t have anything to say.

  

**== >**

Out of the basement, Dave took a deep breath. There was the taste of fresh cookies in the air. There had been the smell of baked goods around the house for over a day now. By the time Jane had finished baking her feelings into submission, Jade and John were going to have enough food in their freezer to last them six months. But it was how Jane was keeping a lid on her shit, and it was appreciated; people didn’t guess it from looking at her, but Jane could be fucking frightening, and given her position as chemist, she had a lot of compounds and medication at her disposal. That shit was sure to misspell disaster.

Through the windows, past the gauzy curtains, headlights were just visible. It’d been a few months since Dave had seen his older sister, and longer since they’d worked together. The Strider-Lalondes were in high demand around the world, and forming a band meant fewer jobs in the long run.

Except, of course Dave worked with Rose. He had to.

Rose was standing in the archway to the kitchen, holding a saucer in one hand, a teacup in the other. There were cookies on the little plate, probably from one of Jane’s five other batches.

Dave leaned on the wall next to her, relieving her of one of the cookies. Orange spice, nice. Rose silently nodded in return, sipping her tea.

Jake emerged from the basement after Dave, slipping past them and into the kitchen. Inside, Jane was just taking another tray of cookies out of the oven, moving them to the cooling rack with a spatula.

Jake opened his mouth to say something. They never got to learn what it was; Jane turned her head, and fixed Jake with the coldest glare known to man. It was an ice age behind polycarbonate, and Jake recoiled at the sight, turning away.

He left the way he’d came, and Dave tracked him from behind his own glasses, watching him go.

Rose leaned her head against Dave’s shoulder, letting out a soft, noncommittal hum.

“Dude blames himself,” Dave murmured quietly.

“Yes,” Rose said, equally so, and glanced at Dave over the edge of her cup. “Come on. Let’s go see to Roxy.”

 

* * *

**> Roxy: Greet family.**

Roxy’s boot crunched into the dirt and gravel that made up Harley’s driveway as she levered herself out of the jeep. The house, the only building on the island outside the port/airstrip, stood proud and tall, an incongruous tower amid all the jungle greenery. Every time she came here, she expected to run into some dinosaurs or shirtless Jeff Goldblum. Maybe a smoke monster. So far, she’d been disappointed.

She bumped her door shut with her hip, leaving the keys in the ignition; it wasn’t like anyone was around to steal the jeeps, and fucking around making sure everyone had their own copies of the keys kind of defeated the purpose. In the back were their bags, and Roxy grabbed them both, setting them on the ground.

“Callie, babe, no hiding!” Roxy singsonged. “Got my whole family in there, and we are doing this, we are gonna make this _happen_.”

On the other side of the jeep, the door swung open, and Calliope gingerly hopped out. “I wasn’t hiding, I was simply… collecting myself.” Her green claws curled around the wall of the trunk bed, eyes peering over the top at Roxy. “Hm, perhaps the wheely bag was not the best choice for this trip.”

Roxy grinned, slinging her pack over her shoulder and getting a good grip on Calliope’s luggage. “Got it. I’m Wonder Woman, it’s fine.”

“But,” Calliope mumbled, her claws tightening, mouth hidden by the jeep. “No one’s seen a cherub before, have they? Oh, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.”

“Girl, we are _committed_ to this now, and Dirk’s seen--” _Dirk, fuck, that stupid asshole, he had to be okay._ “H--he’s seen you on video call, he was chillin’’ like a villain.” She huffed it around the jeep to stand over Calliope, to lean down and kiss her smooth dome, quick as a gunshot. “I can’t promise they are all going to be as cool as my twin, but you are more than a match for them.”

“Of course,” she murmured, nodding slowly. “God, what timing I have. We’ve already got so much on our plates, and I’m getting stage fright! I’m so sorry, love.”

“Naaah, it’s fine. Just don’t think of it like a stage. And if John or Dave say anything dumb, shove them. Establish dominance and they will show their bellies like nobody’s business, trust me.”

“Establish-- Roxy, please!”

Throwing her head back, Roxy let out a loud laugh. God, Calliope’s _scandalized_ face, how it’d survived so long of them living together, Roxy had no idea. “Okay, okay, I will protect you from the idiot boys. Come on, let’s see the damage inside.”

She could feel Calliope’s fingers hooked into her back pockets as she made the trek up to the house.

Roxy knocked with her boot against the bottom of the door.

She was expected, of course. Jade was opening the door a moment later, her arms already open wide. She was taller than Roxy by a head, and was rocking the best old granny glasses ever seen on a woman of 34 years.  “There you are, Roxy-- Oh, John! John, come help with bags!” She abandoned the hug to take the luggage from Roxy, leaning in to make a kissy noise as their cheeks bumped together. “Thanks for coming so quick.”

“What are older sisters for, but dragging their brothers out of the fire? Nice to see you, Jade, thanks for keeping a watch on them.” She felt back behind her, taking Calliope’s hand. “By the way, meet the greatest ball of sunshine the world’s ever seen.”

“ _Roxy_ ,” Calliope moaned, but allowed herself to be tugged forward.

Jade’s face unfolded into a grin. “Calliope! Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard only great things.”

“Calliope is here?” John appeared in the doorway next to Jade, hanging out with a hand braced on the top of the door. “Hi! Man, I’ve heard a lot about you from the Project.”

Calliope brightened. “Oh, were you part of it? I… thought it was only the Alternians?”

John smiled wanly. “Ah, kinda. It was… complicated. I’m not super sure where my internship falls with the non-disclosure agreement and classified crap these days. Anyway, welcome, come on in!”

“We’ll need to put you up in…” Jade tapped her nails against her chin, looking askance at her brother. “We’re expecting more people, we have to put so many people up…”

“Throw us in the same room, we share all the time. Slumber party up in this bitch,” Roxy said as Calliope nodded. “Could you… point me towards my family?”

Jade’s smile faded completely. “Yes. Down this hallway--” she gestured to the right, “--down to the kitchen area. We’ll get your things away, be right with you.”

Roxy nodded, and leaned in to hand over her bag, giving each of her hosts a quick peck on their cheeks. “You are both incredible, thank you. C’mon, Callie.”

This time, taking her hand wasn’t so much for Calliope’s sake, but her own.

 

**== >**

Things were tense. One of their number was down, and they’d always been a very close family, emotionally if not in actual proximity. After so long apart, coming together over this, over _Dirk_ , was rough.

So Roxy walked into the kitchen, letting her boots stomp on the wood floors and announce her arrival. “Well,” she said clearly as Jane, Rose, and Dave all looked to her. “Look at these morose motherfuckers right here.”

Pindrop. Jane lifted her eyebrows while Rose reached up to rub at her temple. Dave, predictably, did nothing.

“What, no one a Kevin Smith fan? Tough room.”

Calliope sighed softly, stepping ahead to offer her hand to Rose. “You’re Rose, I think? I’ve heard so many lovely things about you.”

The ghost of a smile curled over Rose’s face. Taking Calliope’s hand in both of hers, she shook warmly. “Likewise, Calliope. A pleasure to meet you. This is our brother, Dave, and our friend and go-to chemist, Jane Crocker.”

As Rose made introductions, Dave just nodded, which Roxy tried not to let bother her; she knew, vaguely, that whatever had gone wrong had been on his watch. Jane, though, waved brightly, making a good attempt at friendliness even if her smile did not meet her eyes.

“It’s smashing to meet everyone,” Calliope said. “Shame the timing’s so awful.”

It was as good an opening Roxy was going to get, awful as it was. “Anyone want to fill me in on what _happened_? Something about a mental inversion? I have no idea what the hell that means.”

“Here, let’s-- Calliope, would you let me borrow my sister from you for a little while?” Rose asked primly.

“Oh, yes, I will…” Calliope looked around.

Jane nodded. “You’ve had a long flight. Let’s get you some tea and I have made _so many_ cookies, you can try a few, see what you like.”

“Oh, brilliant, I love sweets.” She looked up at Roxy. “Is that…”

Roxy smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be back soon.” Then, to Rose. “Where we going?”

Rose said nothing, just gestured down the hallway before leading the way. Roxy fell into step with her.

“Has Dave said five words in the last day?” Roxy asked softly as they drew out of earshot.

“I can say without hyperbole that he hasn’t,” Rose admitted. “Come along, you’ll want to see what we’re dealing with. Jade’ll meet us down there.”

 

**== >**

By the time Jade joined them, carrying a tray of tea and an overzealously piled up plate of cookies, Roxy had been staring at what was supposed to be her brother’s body for ten minutes.

She should’ve known from the beginning that Dirk’s experiments with his abilities would get out of hand. But it was hard to make Dirk see that. The two of them together were some of the first dreamers outside the Project. She remembered, vividly, hacking the blueprints for the MASIV out of the Project servers and spending the subsequent summer laying around in Dirk’s apartment, sprawled in front of the swamp coolers in his boxers and a sports bra as Dirk created a homemade dreamshare device on his cinderblock table. It felt like stealing the secrets of gunpowder in the first years of the wild west and building the fucking Colt.

They’d been invincible and survived the dangerous early days of dreamsharing. It was hard not to get confident from that. Especially a dreamer like Dirk, who was the first of the family to ever go under, using the somnacin Roxy had bought off the darknet, passing peacefully into dream under her watchful eye.

They’d predated the industry standards and the Vantas Roster, and Dirk never seemed to think those rules applied to him.

Maybe, Roxy thought, that was why they were here. Why _she_ was here, staring through a window at an uncanny valley version of her twin.

The three of them were silent in their vigil until Jade had secured them each some tea. It was green, had that sweet toasted flavor. Genmaicha. Roxy felt honored.

Dirk would have liked some.

“Okay,” Roxy said, setting her cup on the windowsill they were creeping through. The heat of the cup cast a breath of steam along the glass. “What’s the plan, ladies? Point me at any part of this, and I will get it done.”

“We’ll go over particulars tomorrow,” Jade said softly. “John and I have sent out word to some… sympathetic people in the industry. The Strider name carries a lot of weight, and Dirk’s very well respected for his work. And, you know.” She smiled into her tea. “Everyone wants to have the Strider-Lalondes owe them a favor.”

“Of course they do,” Rose muttered, sighing. “But this is a very unusual situation, given Dirk’s unique dreamer class. Just _explaining_ what happened to--” She bit herself off into an even louder sigh. “We know what we have to do. It’s basically the same job as before, but now Dirk’s mind is in the hands of his _subconscious security suite_ , and AR is not going to let us invert them again without a fight.”

Jade was tapping her chin again. “Which means we need more help.”

“Okay, so we build the Ocean’s Eleven of dreamsharing crews. Nice. Sounds great,” Roxy said. “Who’s going on extraction? Dave or Rose?”

Jade tensed, finding something else to look at quickly. “Oh, well, we’re working on that. Quick as we can. I’m sure John’s upstairs on the phone right now. But we have one additional party already on their way. She’ll be here in the morning.”

“Yeah? Who’s that, then?”

“An old friend of John’s. Part of Project Ophiuchus. Terezi Pyrope, she was one of their dreamers and architects.”

Even Rose looks surprised at that, her cup pausing on its way to her mouth. “Are you serious? One of the Twelve? How did we manage _that_?”

“The Twelve don’t do industry work anymore, how--” Roxy whistled to herself. “Like, damn, girl, how expensive was Pyrope to get?”

“You’d be surprised. Cost of a long distance phone call. She and John have kept in touch and she was happy to help.” Her face pinched. “The… other specialists, on the other hand… but _honestly_ , it’s not like I have any plans for my inheritance, and it’s for Dirk.” She looked back at Dirk’s body, eyes steady and determined. “For him, any price is worth it.”

Roxy reached over to take her hand, squeezing it. “Thank you, Jade. You are my _favorite_ rich friend.”

“You have the benefit of being our only rich friend,” Rose added.

Whipping around, Roxy smacked Rose’s arm lightly with the back of her hand. “Girl, you don’t know my life! Not everyone’s a workaholic like you, I might have a dozen rich friends!”

“You guys are…” Jade laughed. “I mean, for you guys, that’s sweet, I guess!”

“We try.”

 

* * *

**> John: Go pick up an old friend.**

 The plane landed sooner than expected. Everyone else in the house was still asleep when John’s phone chirped at his bedside.

> GC: H3Y WH4TS 4 HOP3L3SS D3F3NC3L3SS BL1ND G1RL GOT TO DO TO G3T 4 R1D3 4ROUND H3R3
> 
> EB: you are probably one of the least defenseless people i know.
> 
> GC: TH4TS FL4TT3RING JOHN AND TOT4LLY TRU3  
>  GC: BUT 1 ST1LL C4NT DR1V3
> 
> EB: oh! you’re right.  
>  EB: let me put on shoes, i am on my way.

It was going to be the first time John saw Terezi in years. Not quite a decade, but worryingly close to it.

They’d kept in touch since the dissolution of Project Ophiuchus. Mourning was easier together, and… John had worried about her. Losing her vision and her moirail and all but _five_ members of her team, all in quick succession? That was a lot to handle, even for someone with an iron will like Terezi. He’d wanted to be there if he could.

It was probably presumptuous of him. He wasn’t one of the Twelve, the original dreamers who created dreamsharing. Just a human _intern_ , really. It was rude, probably.

But Terezi always answered his texts, and when he discovered he couldn’t dream anymore, she’d sat up with him all night on pesterchum until he calmed down.

Karkat and Kanaya had never checked in on him. He’d never known Nepeta and Equius well enough to reach out. But Terezi was there, albeit only through the wakeful blue light of his laptop screen.

Often, John wondered why. Maybe she was repaying him for getting her out of Limbo. Or maybe she thought they needed to stick together after Vriska’s death. Or maybe she liked him.

Haha, yeah right.

Point being, like hell John was going to let anyone else go and pick up Terezi from the airstrip when she’d come so far just because he’d asked.

When he parked the jeep, Terezi stood from her seat against the wall. It was barely daybreak, but she wore her red glasses. There was a backpack on her shoulder and a walking stick in her right hand.

John wished he could say she looked the same. The past eight years had turned her into even more of a split rail, narrow and pointy, even without the way her sharp teeth hooked over her lip in typical troll fashion. She looked like she had razor blades in her elbows, something that wouldn’t pass for _healthy_ for a human, but was apparently fine by Alternian standards.

“Door is just to your left,” John offered helpfully. She nodded briskly, reaching out a hand and finding the handle by touch, pulling it hard. Her bag was tossed in, almost into John, making him let out a little _oof_ before he set it on the middle of the bench. “Long time no see.” John stiffened as long as the words leave his mouth, because _wow, Egbert, **really**?_

To his intense relief, Terezi threw her head back and laughed, glass marbles in a can, sharp and almost hard on the ears. She clamored into the jeep, tugged the door shut behind, and reached out.

John yelped as she grabbed the neck of his shirt, pulling him close for one completely unsubtle deep inhale, mouth open. Satisfied, she shoved John back, relaxing into her seat. “Hey there, Egbert. You smell good. Especially the new glasses, nice.”

He had no idea how she _knew_ , how troll anatomy differed from humans in such a way it let her tell he’d gotten new frames in the past year. It was infuriating, and he knew if he asked, there was no chance he’d get a straight answer. Instead, he rolled his eyes and put the jeep into gear.

“So I hear older Strider lost the keys to his own thinkpan,” Terezi said. Her hands were moving, touching over everything in the jeep, including John a few times.

“Something went wrong. The twins know more about it. I mean, the younger ones, not...” He sighed tersely. “Listen, I… didn’t expect you to come. Everyone really appreciates it. Especially after last time.”

“Not doing it for them, Eggs.” She tugged at the sun visors, a folded brochure falling into her lap. Chinese takeout menu. Completely useless on this island; John would bet money on Dave having put it there as a joke. Terezi unfolded it, taking a whiff before shoving it back in place. “You dream anytime in the past five years?”

John’s hand tightened on the wheel. “No. Or, once. I used somnacin, just to see.”

“How’d that go?”

He shrugged, trying not to let the memory cling to him. “Same as before.”

She hummed to herself, and turned to look out the window. Or face it. John wondered if he should lower it for her to smell the island.

It’d been eight long years, and John didn’t know how to handle this living molotov cocktail blast from his past.

 

* * *

**> Jade: Discuss the plan.**

Jade was pretty sure the house had never been so full of people. It was a strange but nice arrangement, having the entire Strider-Lalonde clan as well as her brother, Jake and Jane, Roxy’s precious friend, and one of the Twelve. The kitchen was bustling, with everyone taking turns making eggs or using the waffle iron or fighting over cereal.

It was a strange delight that Jade wasn’t used to having. Living on a remote island was an interesting lifestyle she wouldn’t trade for anything, but it prevented her from having this. Her big house was, for once, almost full, and she stood in the archway to watch all her friends and guests, sprawled around the kitchen.

The twins were together; Dave had his arms crossed in front of him, his head resting in them as Rose read the news of the day aloud to him from her tablet, her nails dragging lightly through his hair. Next to them, Roxy was having a bowl of marshmallow squiddles and a glass of what Jade hoped was just tomato juice. Jane was commanding the waffle maker, with Calliope standing at her elbow, holding an empty plate eagerly. Sitting apart from everyone on the floor, Bec’s head in his lap, was Jake. And Terezi sat so close to John, their legs were probably touching, loudly proclaiming she wasn’t hungry… only to steal half the food off his plate, letting out a sharp laugh at every indignant look he shot her.

The situation was dire, making everything bittersweet, but Jade couldn’t help enjoying this part of it.

It’d be better if Dirk were there with them.

When everyone was sufficiently fed and watered, but not so much so they were thinking of scattering around the house, Jade pulled out a chair from under the island and sat, bringing her hands together in a brisk clap. “I don’t want to interrupt anything, but it’s time to bring this meeting to order.”

“Nah, it’s a good time,” Roxy said, knocking back the rest of her glass. “What’s the story, morning glory?”

Jade smoothed down her skirt and smiled at the room. There was something to be said for having some of the best and brightest of the dreamsharing biz all paying attention to her. “Well, our final guests are en route, so I think it’s a good time to have a sort of preliminary discussion on what our plan is. Now, we don’t have any details yet. We’re going to wait for our experts before tackling that. But I know not everyone is really caught up on things.”

She offered that to Terezi, who nodded at the acknowledgement. “All your candy bloods have been so petulant, not wantin’ to talk about how you broke the other Strider and all.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at the troll, but just put her hand on Dave’s shoulder.

“Well, let’s start with that. Last week, Dirk Strider called for help to deal with his subconscious security since it’d begun getting out of hand. The plan was to enter Dirk’s dream and put Dirk back in control. Instead…” She bit her lip, and took care _not_ to look at Dave. Even three days later, she got the impression that the wrong glance would break him apart.

Jane picked up in Jade’s floundering pause. “AR-- that’s what it’s called. It’s like a supershade that is meant to respond to threats without needing direction,” Jane explained cooly. “So he called it the Auto-Responder, or AR. It now has control of Dirk’s body.”

Jade was impressed when Terezi didn’t question that further. Plenty of things came to mind, mainly _how the heck is that possible_ and _that’d make Dirk dead, right?_ But Terezi just nodded, which was a weight off Jade’s shoulders. Maybe she’d heard of stranger things. To this day no one _really_ knew what the members of Project Ophiuchus got up to.

“Worse yet,” Jade said, continuing on, “AR knows we’re coming. So, for this job, we’ll need outside help, people that AR is not familiar with. New architects, new dreamers, and a new extractor.”

Suddenly, like coming out of his social hibernation with all the fleetness of whip crack, Dave looked up, his mouth turned harshly downward. “A _new extractor_ , what?” He glanced between Roxy and Rose. “Someone else is going to lead the team into Dirk’s head? What kind of shitty sweeps week drama twist is this?”

Awkward silence. Jade chewed her lip. It was so _hard_ with Dave recently; everyone was upset about Dirk, but Dave was…

Eventually, John lifted his hand slowly, like Dave was some feral thing liable to take a bite of anyone who moved too quickly. “I know. It’s unfair and it sucks a _whole_ lot. But has to be done. Like, what do you know about this job, really? Think about it. We’re going in to find Dirk.”

Jade picked up from there, eager to help and not just… foist Dave Responsibility off on John and Rose. “He’ll probably be hiding from AR,” she said gently. “So, at best he’ll be in level two but level three is the sure bet, and we’ll be preparing for that.”

“Oh no,” Jane said, leaning her cheek into her hand. “You’re talking about a dream within a dream _within a dream_ , that is…” She blew out a breath. “That’s going to take extra sedation to hold stable. Two level dreaming doesn’t need any help, but three _requires_ sedation.”

Roxy nodded along. “Okay, so, what’s the problem?”

“Limbo,” Rose said succinctly.

There was an instant hush over the table. A few eyes slid in Terezi and John’s direction. Neither of them acknowledged the scrutiny.

John coughed into his fist. “For this job, everyone will need extra sedation to find Dirk. And because of that, if anyone is killed in the dream, they will fall into Limbo instead of being kicked. And I’m sure AR would love nothing more than to drop everyone on the team into Limbo and let all our brains turn into tapioca pudding. So,” he looked between the family, holding each of their gazes for a second, “as much as you all have a personal stake in this, you need someone who can deal with that. Someone who has retrieved dreamers from Limbo intact.”

The terrible silence returned. The wind thoroughly taken from his sails, Dave slumped forward, returning to studying the kitchen island like he could discover the secrets of the universe within the dark whirls of the treated wood. More than ever, he looked like the youngest in the room. Which, technically, he was by three minutes.

Jade went on, because things were becoming agonizingly uncomfortable.

“We’ll need more than the extractor. AR knows most of the people in this room too well. And, well.” It was hard to admit such a thing in this company, but: “I’m a Space dreamer, but I’m really not very good. Can’t build a realistic dream to save my life. So we’ll need help with the architecture and a new dreamer.”

“Architect,” Rose echoed hollowly. Her hand was on Dave’s, thumb rubbing to and fro. “Then I assume I will be handing over my dreamer reins to our accomplished guest?” She waved to Terezi, bowing her head slightly.

Terezi grinned. “Nah, I can’t take point there, m’fraid. Rumors are true.”

“But apparently there is a way around that,” Jade said. “Terezi will be assisting you, Rose. First, we will all enter the dream, Terezi included. Level one will be a safe, stagnant level just for prepping the rest of the dreams. There, our extraction team will dream deeper while Terezi dreams _into_ Rose.” She held up two fingers. “Two separate MASIVs at work. Terezi will do what’s called _riding along_ with Rose to assist and to make her dream less recognizable to AR.”

Terezi nodded and pointed in, vaguely, Rose’s direction. “Seer, right?”

“Of Light, yes.”

“Whoo, hell yes, Seers unite. Up top, Rosey-Posey.” Terezi lifted her hand, reaching out.

Since she wasn’t quite in range, Jane slapped her hand instead, smiling and shaking her head.

From against the window, where he sat on the floor with Bec’s head on his lap, Jake asked, “Sorry, I don’t want to--” He paused, clearing his throat, sounding dreadfully nervy. “But, we can _do_ that? Dream into someone who is already dreaming?”

Cackling, Terezi nodded. “Oh, the Project got up to _way_ worse than that. Together, we can throw off Strider’s murderous firewall.”

“That is the plan, anyway,” Jade agreed. “So, level one is our setup. Level two, we’ll… have to find a way to lure AR to us. Last job, you didn’t find AR until level three. We assume the same will be true this time, and Dirk will be three down.”

“So we need another dreamer,” Roxy said. “Someone new.”

This was the nice moment, Jade thought. She winked at John; they’d really only gotten confirmation for this a few hours ago, that their experts were flying in. Jade might not have been a skilled dreamer, able to turn the tide and help take Dirk back, but she could do _this_ at least. “Our extra dreamer will be… I’d ask for a drumroll, but no one looks up for it, so-- Kanaya Maryam! She agreed to help us out, given the dire circumstances.”

“ _Kanaya_ ,” Terezi said gleefully. “Oh, man, it’s been _ages!_ ”

Dave snorted. “Lots of old school celebs in on this job. And me without my autograph book.”

Rose slapped his arm and leaned in, catching Jade’s eyes. “I had thought Ms. Maryam was retired. I believed-- excuse the presumption, but I thought _everyone_ who survived in the Vriska Job retired.” She pointed to John and Terezi. “Present company included.”

Terezi shrugged, both hands lifted with the gesture. “Hey, I’m just riding along. And besides, John begged _pretty_ on the phone when he called to ask me.”

A red smudge appeared in each of John’s cheeks. He elbowed Terezi’s side, hissing something at her irritably. She just laughed in his face and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, regardless, I’m eager to meet her,” Rose said.

“She seemed very nice on the phone,” Jade admitted. Getting _ahold_ of her had taken more than a few resources and the equivalent of Jade throwing money at her phone, but it worked out in the end. Everyone had their price, _everyone_ , and Jade had an inheritance to burn. “So level one, safe zone. Level two, lure to get AR. Level three will have to be a carefully designed dream. We need to give Dirk a way to reach us safely, so we can get him out. Then, it’s the same job as the last one, just…” She stumbled, flushing at how Dave’s head lifted just an inch, waiting. “Just, uh, better.”

Dave nodded, much to her relief. “Right. So, let’s go down the list.” He put a finger, ready to count off. “Jane’s chemist, she’ll sedate us so we can do a triple dream. Someone is level one dreamer…”

Jade lifted her hand. “As a Witch of Space, my dreams are very unconvincing _but_ very stable. I can be level one, give everyone a safe zone to set up for the tricky stuff.”

“Cool. Level one, Jade. Then, we need to build a dream that AR won’t expect, so Maryam for that one. Rose with Terezi riding will be level three?” When Rose nodded, he continued to count. “Right, so John will be our extractor. Roxy and I can play pointman.”

“And I can forge,” Jake said. His voice came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, Jade stiffened.

Jane’s mouth pressed into an unhappy white line, and she looked to be an inch from saying _something_ , but Dave nodded. “Forgers are always useful, and hey, backup dreamer in case we lose Maryam or…” He shook himself, shrugged. “Big team, but we can make it work.”

John took a slow breath, leaning onto the island on his elbows, shoulders hunched. “Just one problem. I can’t. Not since the Vriska Job, you know that.”

Dave’s mouth creased into a deeper frown. “What? Bro, you said we need someone who’s extracted someone out of Limbo before. Thaaaaat’s you, dude, it’s a really exclusive club.”

“Not a party of one, though,” John replied.

Jade smiled, pressing her hands together under the table as she watched Dave’s face, what she could see of it. “We hired one more contractor. He’s coming in with Kanaya. He’ll be leading the operation as your extractor.”

Dave let his glasses slide down his nose enough to look at Jade over them, bright eyed and keen with sudden realization. “Jade. _Jade_ , you did not hire that fucking prick. You didn’t.”

“He’s the only other person who’s pulled people from Limbo! Multiple people, even!”

“Although only one was still sane,” Terezi pointed out, finger in the air. “Worth remembering.”

“Wasn’t his fault,” John added, shooting her a glare. Realizing that she couldn’t see his ire, he slapped her hand back down.

“Who cares about the intricacies of his resume, he doesn’t extract _shit_ anymore,” Dave went on, voice lifting above his usual register, the near-whisper he’d been using for days. “He just noses around in people’s heads and kicks over the trash cans and rips down the curtains and goes, _well, here’s your gold star for enduring my bullshit. Thanks for playing. Remember I’m your infallible god, shithead._ ”

She’d been warned that Dave would not take this well, but _wow_. In a way it was a little reassuring; at least Dave was emoting again. Jade rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “He… still extracts, he just has a rather specific contract and… fee.”

John, the traitor, snorted loudly. “Boy, howdy, _does he have a fee_.”

“And you want me to run point for him?” Dave asked, sharp and pissed. “Wait, he’s _extractor,_ you’re putting him in _charge_?”

Jade lowered her hand and shot Dave a testy glare. “Yes, Dave. It’s his job to make sure we don’t lose anyone _else_ to AR, and you’re going to listen to him or-- or Roxy will run point alone!”

“Oh god, please don’t say my name right now,” Roxy moaned, hiding her smile behind her hand. “Leave me out of it.”

“Dude is _not_ going into my brother’s head, Jade,” Dave said, low and terse. “And I’m not sharing another dream with him.”

“Well, it’s too late, because he’s on the same plane Kanaya is on, and it’ll be here before nightfall!”

Calliope, keeping her voice low, leaned into Roxy’s side to whisper, “Who are we so angry about?”

Across from her, Rose put her hand up along her mouth, as if that would shield Dave from hearing her as she said, “Karkat Vantas.”


	3. but if you call for me, this frozen sea

**> Karkat: Start complaining the moment you land on the fucking island.**

“Hoooly fuck, it’s already so fucking hot,” Karkat Vantas said as he stepped off the plane. Lifting his hands, he cupped them around his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. It was late in the afternoon on this side of the world, and the sun was in precisely the worst fucking position, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife aimed right at Karkat’s nocturnal-adapted eyes. “It’s bright and it’s hot. We’re in hell. Human hell exists and it’s in the South Pacific. Are you feeling this? Fuck, I’m going to throw myself into the ocean. I’ll be a fucking highborn, but I won’t be in a damn oven anymore.”

Kanaya clasped her hands together, looking around with a smile. She was  so pleased to be out of the cramped plane, she was glowing. Maybe literally. Karkat wasn’t sure when she ate last. “You are being dramatic. It’s a lovely island. Reminds me a bit of my oasis home, but the greenery is much nicer.”

The pilot handed them their bags. Karkat shouldered his duffle bag and watched Kanaya grab her luggage and struggle to situate her garment bags over her arm. He snorted. In return, she shot Karkat a look, lifting her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at him.

Karkat turned and walked away. “Harley said there’d be a jeep waiting for us. God, I feel fucking ill, that plane ride was terrible.”

Heels clicking against the asphalt, Kanaya followed behind, sundress flowing as if through water. At least one of them was prepared for the weather. “Well, when this is all over, I’m certain you can buy your own plane, one that suits your delicate sensibilities better.”

“My sensibilities aren’t _delicate_ , this is-- oh, fuck you for reminding me how fucking rich this job is going to make me. It’s the only comfort in my life right now, knowing I’m going to walk away with all of Jade Harley’s money.”

“Let it be your beacon of hope in these truly arduous times,” Kanaya said.

“I don’t think you are taking this seriously.” He reached the jeep and yanked the door open. Duffle thrown into the back, Karkat stopped to peel off his jacket and run a hand through his hair irritably. “We’re talking about the fucking Striders.”

“Your vendetta against them has been noted for the thirtieth time, Karkat,” Kanaya said, sliding into the driver’s seat of the jeep without being asked. He assumed she knew already that he was fucking blind in the bright light before sundown; he could certainly drive, but it’d likely be off a cliff. “Now please, get in the vehicle before I leave you to walk to the house or be eaten by the denizens of this island.”

Karkat pouted, but climbed in. “I miss when I was your boss.”

Kanaya laughed, bright and clear. “You were _never_.”

 

* * *

 

**> Dave: Chillax in the super comfy chair in the foyer.**

Rose was having another cup of tea.

Dave had grabbed the big, plush green armchair in the foyer, the one that kept his back to the window. Because he didn’t need to see, didn’t need to keep watch. Shades on, head down, eyes on his phone. Granted, his reception out on the Island That Time Forgot was pretty awful, and Jade’s wifi left something to be desired. The number of his phone games that demanded data was sick, so Dave was reduced to fucking solitaire. Nothing about his life wasn’t pain.

While Dave was busy not giving a single good goddamn about their impending guests, Rose sat on the arm of the chair. Her hand rested on his shoulder, her weight balanced there while she kept her teacup and saucer on her lap with the other hand.

If Dave was totally fine with their predicament (which he was, thanks for asking), then Rose was the high queen of all things Fine. Combs, china, dining, and art all fell under her purview. Sure, she’d had about seven cups of tea already, but Dave was the only one who noticed that and knew how it calmed her nerves and stilled her hands. It was the ritual of it, Dave thought. Like, she could drop a teabag into a mug and scald the shit out of it like a normal human being, but the whole teapot and all, it was the magic. At least, for Rose. Dave didn’t know the point of making tea or coffee in tiny-ass little cups. Three sips and done, what was the point.

The cup rested just under her lip as she smiled faintly. “You’re staring quite intently.”

“Tch, can’t a brother stare at his sister without her turning it into a thing? Is that something our family is fucking capable of? I’ll pay you to not make any fucking armchair psychologist comments right now.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with paying your sister for favors,” Rose reported dryly.

“I swear to god, Rose,” Dave groaned, dropping his head back to stare upward at the rafters.

Casually intrusive, Rose reached out and took the bridge of his glasses in between two fingers, lifting just enough to peer under. “Are you alright? Or, as alright as you can be given the circumstances?”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course,” Rose said, setting Dave’s glasses back on his nose and looking out the window again. “Everyone can tell you certainly have no problems with our contracted help.”

“Rose,” Dave sighed.

“You know, Mr. Vantas was nothing but--” She stopped, reconsidered. “Well, _professional_ is too strong a word, but he was a very astute, insightful dreamer. You never explained what went so awry with your certification test.” Her lips pursed together. “I’ve actually never heard of anyone that needed three sessions to pass. Normally, it’s one or he fails you.”

Dave shut his eyes and didn’t answer. There were things Dave didn’t tell Rose. They were few and far between, especially since they became the one-two punch of the dreamsharing world. But this was one of them.

 

**> Dave: Exposit.**

After the Vriska Job and the fallout of that clustercatastrofuck, all of the Twelve who survived it dropped off the map for a few years. Unmonitored, the dreamshare business became a fucking dangerous game to play, with everyone using old records and anecdotal reports to figure out how the fuck it worked.

Then, Karkat Vantas, one of the Twelve, appeared on the darknet hub that had become the industry’s forum, and went off like a foul-mouthed atomic bomb with a superiority complex.

THIS IS YOUR GOD SPEAKING, the memo had read, AND HE IS TIRED OF WATCHING YOU UNDER-EVOLVED WRIGGLERS AND YOUR PATHETIC STUMBLING THROUGH THE GOOD NIGHT THAT IS SENSIBLE DREAMSHARING. HE IS HERE TO TEACH YOU ALL HOW NOT TO BE TOTAL AND INIMITABLE FUCKUPS AT THIS, SINCE YOU ALL ARE TOO STUPID TO GET OUT WHILE THE GETTING’S GOOD. NO MORE SOMNACIN OVERDOSES, NO MORE TRAUMA FROM VIOLENT PROJECTIONS, NO MORE HACKJOB PASIVS, AND NO MORE PEOPLE ENDING UP VEGETATIVE AFTER A BRUSH WITH LIMBO. PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION.

And so the commandments of dreamsharing were handed down to the industry and the Vantas Roster was established. A group of trolls, all who had extensive dreamsharing experience, started testing dreamers to ensure they knew what they were doing, that their dreams were stable, that they didn’t have any particularly deadly shades in their subconscious.

There was standard dreaming certification, but before long the Roster added additional certifications for the standard operational roles. Kanaya Maryam tested forgers. Porrim Maryam tested architects. Nepeta Leijon rigorously taught chemists how to avoid melting any dreamers’ brains.

And fucking Karkat Vantas tested pointmen and extractors.

No one wanted you for a paying job unless you were certified (or your name started with _D_ and ended in _irk Strider_ ), and Rose wanted into the industry. After her architecture certification went well, she booked herself and Dave to get tested by Karkat while he was in the States.

Rose was cleared in one session, apparently.

Dave… was not. And that was that.

If you held a gun to his sister’s head, Dave _might’ve_ been forced to admit he was a little bit bitter about the whole thing.

 

**> Dave: Okay, stop expositing and get back to having a weird crisis.**

Dave heard the crunch of the jeep’s wheels against the gravel outside about five seconds before Rose’s hand clenched onto his shoulder. He nodded, eyes on his solitaire game, trying to remember which fucking card was supposed to go on the king of hearts. He knew it two seconds ago.

Roxy pelted out of the hallway to reach the door before Rose. “Coooompaaany,” she sang brightly, grabbing the door and swinging it open.

“Oh,” came an unfamiliar feminine voice. “I was going to knock but I suppose that isn’t necessary.” It was a deep, almost husky voice that made Rose get to her feet quickly, handing her tea off to Dave.

“What the--” He dropped his phone to take the saucer, peering at Rose as she checked her dark lipstick in the mirror lightning fast before joining Roxy.

“Hello, welcome to the Harley household, Ms. Maryam. Mr. Vantas, good to see you again, and thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Roxy shot a dramatic pout at Rose. “I was _gettin’_ to that part, Rose. But yeah, come in, y’all’ve had one hell of a journey. Need anything? Water? Something stronger?”

His sisters stepped back in unison, like they were welcoming tourists to a resort island.

Kanaya Maryam looked different than the ten year old leaked Project profile photos Dave had seen. She was tall, even taller than him probably, and stood like her spine was a metal rod. Or like a statue. She had the skin for the latter, standing out starkly compared to every other troll Dave had ever seen. So, that was one rumor checkbox _definitely_ ticked, ticked in bright red, or… rainbow, he guessed. Did she eat human blood? Shit, what if that was her fee?

Rose looked ready to pay a deposit, turning to follow her with a small smile. “I hope the trip wasn’t too taxing on you. Here, may I help you with that?”

Maryam peered down at Rose for a moment before smiling. Sharp teeth, wow. “Rose Lalonde, I take it. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“ _Finally_? My, do I have expectations to meet?” Rose said with a smirk.

“That was a presumptuous statement, my apologies.”

“No, not at all. It makes me feel a little better about my own: it’s a gift to the dreamsharing industry that your retirement has been less… strictly enforced than Mr. Vantas’.” She gingerly took one of the garment bags from Maryam, folding it over her own arm.

Maryam lifted her hand, tucking a curl of dark hair back behind her ear. Like, legit bashfulness, what the hell? Dave frowned to himself. Maryam was something like… almost a decade older than Rose, and Dave felt like he was prying on some weird flirtatious dance. Did Rose have game? Did Dave’s sister have more game than he did? And if so, could Rose maybe wait an hour before deploying her mad lesbian skills?

Volley, ball in Maryam’s court, and return: “Thank you. I think it’s important to keep limber and at the top of your field. Someone has to give you young dreamers a challenge.”

Rose nearly _beamed_. “A challenge I’d be interested in taking. Do you do any recreational dreaming, Ms. Maryam?”

“Please, call me Kanaya. We’ll be working together, after all.”

Dave was spectating the flirtation olympics so hard, he nearly spilled Rose’s tea when Roxy joined him, sitting on the arm of the chair and bracing to lean down to his ear. “This has the potential for some truly bangin’ pick-up lines. Think she’ll stick the landing?”

God, Dave did not want to closely examine the chances of his sister hitting it off with an older alien woman.

Luckily, a distraction walked in wearing a surly expression and shit kicking boots. Karkat hadn’t changed much in the past three years. Same perpetually furrowed brow, same washed out olive military jacket, same steel Cancer sign hanging from his ball chain necklace, same paramilitary wet dream chic look going on. He blinked as he walked into the house, and Dave could see the way his pupils constricted, how he squinted in the lower light, slivers of catseye gold.

Dave tipped his head down, eyes feasibly on his phone as Karkat’s gaze swept over him.

And swept away again. Dave let out a breath.

“Where the fuck is Terezi, I heard you guys had her stolen away here too.” Same surly growl too.

“You’re _already_ angry, candy drabapple?” Terezi swept out of the hallway, like she’d been _waiting_ , and hooked her arm around Karkat’s neck. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the recupercot.”

“I was in fucking Oslo. Beautiful, partly cloudy Oslo. Now twenty hours of travel later and I’m in the brightest fucking place on the planet--” He was working up to a long rant, but Terezi leaned in and licked his cheek. “ _Ugh_ , god-fucking-dammit Terezi!”

“Just checking! Ha!” She released him, then knocked her hip into Kanaya’s, cutting off whatever Sapphic verse was going on with her and Rose. “Maryam, long time no smell.”

Kanaya took the interruption with grace, though Rose’s perfect charming face cracked for just a sec. Ha. She watched them for a moment, then retreated back to sit on Dave’s chair. He was positively boxed in by Lalondes. Other, less related men would be thrilled. Dave just handed her the tea again.

“You need a harness or something?” Dave asked.

“Hm? What?” Rose said, distracted.

“You were on world record pace to climb that babe like a tree,” Roxy said, hand cupped over her mouth, not even close to muffled enough.

“Shh!” Rose hissed, swatting Roxy’s arm.

“She’s right, though, that was like watching a ravenous dude at a pasta buffet,” Dave said.

Rose’s cheeks flushed, and she brought her probably-cold tea to her lips. “Excuse me, not all of us partake in avoidance and longing looks across the room.”

Roxy frowned, swaying away from Rose. “I’m _what_ now?”

“Not you,” Rose murmured.

_That_ was fucking enough for one day. Dave had reached his quota of… his quota. The important one, the one he reached like he was a badass Chinese girl inches away from grabbing that arrow at the top of the pole in that one Disney flick. _Anastasia_ or something. Reached, gotten, and now it was time to bounce out of there before the Huns arrived to kill his hot sensitive military love interest with the sexy voice.

Point being: As John and Jade wandered in to say hello, Dave shoved himself out of the chair and slipped out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

**> Kanaya: Reminisce with the other members of the increasingly inaccurately named Twelve.**

The Harley residence was a huge building, two large lower levels, then a tall tower that was likely another five storeys at least. It would have been a difficult place to navigate without the help of Rose Lalonde, who took the time to help Kanaya to her guest room before excusing herself to help with dinner preparations.

It had been a while since anyone had shown such a keen interest in Kanaya. It was deeply flattering, and if she took it as direction to unpack once of her nicer blouses with the pencil skirt, no one else had to know.

But she was here to work, above all else. When she finished changing and freshening up, she slipped out of her room, and made her way back downstairs.

Distantly, she could hear the sounds of dinner, voices in the kitchen. It was a very crowded house at the moment, and while Kanaya found enjoyment in the attention, something else drew her along.

Down in the basement was a very finely organized dreamsharing lab. Solid stone floors, ergonomic reclined chairs, and a military-grade ASIV. Most dreamers she knew and tested worked with PASIVs for the mobility, but Harley’s MASIV was an intimidating workhoofbeast under blue light.

“Not a terrible set-up, huh,” Terezi said, pulling Kanaya’s attention away.

Terezi and Karkat were standing at the far end of the room, in front of an observation window. Kanaya joined them, turning to look through the window. On the other side seemed to be a medical room of some sort. Its lights were dim, and a human man, probably close to fifteen sweeps old, lay on the bed, sleeping. From the fine blond hair, angled jaw, and abundance of freckles, it was fair to guess who it was.

They all watched Dirk Strider-- or whoever he currently was-- sleep. Or, she and Karkat did. Kanaya wasn’t sure what Terezi was up to.

“This is a position I didn’t expect to be in again,” Kanaya said quietly, as though the sleeping Strider might awaken. “Dreaming with you both. Or in any serious capacity.”

“Yeah,” Karkat said with an explosive sigh, his whole body sagging a little. “This is such a clusterfuck they’ve gotten themselves into.”

“And yet, for all your complaints, here you are.”

Karkat grimaced, and reached up to rub his temple. “Jade called me, told me about this fucking job. I quoted her a price. It was a ludicrous price, mostly to get her to leave me the hell alone. But she said yes. Then, I found out we were going into one of the Strider’s heads, so I raised the price.” His grimace softened into something that was a nearly a smile, depending on one’s standards. “She accepted it again. _Then_ I found out the other fucking Strider would be running point. And-- well.” He shrugged. “You can guess.”

Terezi laughed, too loud for the quiet they were wrapped in. It felt like a moment for hushed voices, just above whispers, and yet she must’ve missed that part of the conversation. “Sounds like Harley’s made of stronger stuff than you. Or, her bank account is, ha ha!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Karkat muttered, then nudged Terezi with his elbow. “What about you? The fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Terezi grinned with all her teeth. “John begged _really_ pretty on the phone.”

Karkat snorted. “‘Course. Wouldn’t expect anything less. Kanaya?”

She put her fingers together, manicured claws tapping. “I still enjoy this field of work. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real challenge. Mostly it’s just testing new dreamers and trying some architecture techniques on my own, nothing terribly satisfying. It’s hard to forget what we once were,” Kanaya said. Terezi was nodding along. “And… It is a dire situation. They require our assistance.”

“And the Darkwater Job has nothing to do with it, right,” Karkat said, smirking.

“Which job?” Terezi asked.

“Ran by the younger Strider-Lalonde twins,” Karkat explained. “ _Allegedly_ it was a successful inception job, took place about a year ago.”

Kanaya crossed her arms, glancing askance at Karkat. “Inception is very technical, difficult work and worth recognition.”

He went on like she’d said nothing. “Rumors about it broke on the darknet months later, and you’ve never seen Kanaya work a rumor feed so hard. Tried to drag any detail she could find out of it. Rose Lalonde was the extractor on that one.”

“I don’t see any problem with admiring the exceptional work of my peers.”

“And when Dirk Strider pulled an inception off two years ago, you were all over that too, right?”

Kanaya narrowed her eyes at him. “Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about the older hatchmate, Karkat. Wouldn’t it be interesting to discuss the exploits of the younger Strider, hm?”

Karkat’s face took on the appearance of stone, still and dull, his eyes trained in front of him, barely even blinking. “Whatever you want, Kanaya,” he said in an impressively level tone.

Terezi leaned back to look past Karkat and in Kanaya’s direction. “Details?”

Kanaya smiled. “Later.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Karkat groused. “Let’s go eat something already, this isn’t Gossip Troll.”

Terezi let out a teasing, keen, “ _Oooooh_ ,” but followed as they all headed back upstairs for dinner with the humans. Kanaya laughed softly, and felt a warm surge of nostalgia in her chest at the sight of her old fellow dreamers.

She only hoped this new job would go better than the last.

 

* * *

 

**> Karkat: Go find Dave.**

Of course it wasn’t until after midnight that Karkat finally spoke to Dave.

His stubborn dedication to pretending Karkat didn’t exist, that he wasn’t the extractor on this shitshow, was kind of admirable. He’d even been absent from dinner. It couldn’t last forever, though, and if Dave Strider was going to be pointman, he _was_ going to talk to Karkat. Otherwise, Karkat fully planned to leave him behind.

It paid to have his own contract, really, just for sullen bitter human pricks like Dave.

He went out looking for Dave, damned if he was going to leave it until the morning. Karkat wasn’t one to get hung up on going to sleep angry, but he wasn’t going to waste any quality ire and _not_ shout at Dave for a while before turning in.

It took some time to find him; he was down in the basement dreamsharing lab, sat perched on a table with his legs drawn up close to him, arms hanging limply off his knees. It was dark down here, and yet he still had his fucking sunglasses on. The rumors were true, everyone, yes, even at night and even indoors.

Though Karkat already knew that. And he even knew why. But it was polite to pretend he didn’t, and while Karkat was a complete asshole, he didn’t like to abuse his knowledge. It wasn’t Dave’s fault that Karkat knew.

Hell, it wasn’t _Karkat’s_ fault that he knew, but that didn’t stop Dave from holding a grudge.

For the millionth time, Karkat regretted the fuck out of certifying Dave Strider for dreamsharing.

Hunching his shoulders in his jacket, Karkat sighed loud enough to announce his presence. “Can we have a fucking conversation like adults, would that be okay with you, Strider?”

Dave somehow went even more still, but otherwise didn’t move. “Doubt it, but dream big, man.”

Walking closer, Karkat pulled out a chair at the table, ready to make this shit happen, to sit and share _words_ with the younger Strider. As he looked up, ready to kick off the word-centric festivities, he caught what Dave was staring at and froze. “Oh, fuck no, we are not doing this. Come on.” He reached out, about to grab Dave’s sleeve, only to stop and instead whistle, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.

It took a long moment for Dave to stop staring through the observation window at his brother’s body. His brother’s body that was staring right back at him, leaning on the other side of the window sill. _Fuck that, no._ Karkat stood there, thumb still pointing, and waited.

Letting out a soft _tch_ noise, Dave unfolded and hopped down. “What do you want, Vantas, seriously?”

Karkat didn’t answer right away, instead leading them both out of the basement. He wanted as much distance from that observation room as possible. He was careful not to glance back behind him, trusting that Dave would be following him and certain he’d bristle if Karkat checked to make sure.

In the kitchen, he finally said, “Information.”

There was juice in the fridge, and he poured two glasses of tart cherry juice. There was a bottle of rum on the door too; Karkat added a splash to each drink. If Jade had a problem, she could bill him, ha.

Dave sat at the kitchen island heavily, arms folded in front of him. With his head low and tilted at that perfect angle, he could’ve been staring at Karkat or at the island’s wood top. There was no way to be sure with his obnoxious lenses in the way.

When Dave didn’t say shit, didn’t prompt Karkat further, Karkat sighed and set the drink in front of him, sipping his own. “You’re pissed I’m leading this. I get it. But we need this job to go well if you want to save your brother.”

“I know.” Dave’s lips pressed together almost imperceptibly. “I’m pissed at Jade for hiring you. But it won’t get in the way of the job.”

“Yeah, there’s definitely no hard feelings between us, that’s crystal clear.” Karkat looked down at his drink. It was easier than the implacable Schrodinger’s Gaze that Dave was maybe aiming his way. “Do we need to… Dammit, Dave, do we have to talk about…”

“Nope. Nothin’ to talk about.” Dave sipped his drink, pink tongue swiping over his lips to catch the dark juice. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”

God, Dave was such a fucking pain in the ass. Karkat inhaled, held it for a second, and blew it out slowly. Calm breaths, inner peace, not shouting, et cetera et cetera. Thus was the Vantas Mantra. His voice was softer as he asked, “What _happened_ with the last job? I have some details from Jade, but she wasn’t there. You were. You were lead.”

“Messed up.” Dave leaned his cheek on his hand. At least now there was a higher chance he was looking at Karkat. “What do you need to know?”

“How did this even happen? Like, what, a _shade_ in Dirk’s brain took over? How the fuck is that possible? Are we… like, I hate to bring actual logic to the table here, but how do we know that Dirk’s recoverable?”

Dave nodded, like that was fair. Good. Because it was. “What’s your dream class?”

“Knight of Blood.”

“And you get some extra tricks up your sleeve from that, right?”

“I’m almost _disgustingly_ well-suited for extraction and leading teams. I can keep a bead on all the dreamers, and locate them fast. Why?”

Dave’s lips twitched just slightly. “That why you were in charge of the original Twelve?”

“Yeah. Well, one of the people in charge. That was back before we wisened the fuck up and learned that having more than one extractor on a team was a recipe for disaster. But yeah, it sure as fuck wasn’t thanks to my vibrant personality. I just won the subconscious ability roulette. Again, _why_?”

“Dirk’s a Prince of Heart.” When Karkat just blinked at him, Dave sighed. “It’s… He can do a lot with projections and subconscious constructs. I’ve seen him throw himself across a dreamscape, just embodying any projection he wants.”

Karkat didn’t know that was _possible_. He kept the surprised look off his face, just nodding.

“Well, he got creative with it. The things he builds in his head, they last longer, feel… more real. So he used that to build a… a superprojection, I guess. Like the Mr. Charles gambit, but an _actual_ kinda autonomous being that lives in his dreams and works with him on jobs. And as he used it more and more, it got smarter. Better at handling things. He called it the Auto-Responder.”

“AR for short,” Karkat murmured. “This all sounds kind of farfetched.”

“Yeah. Well. Too bad. You asked. Anyway, Dirk made AR too real, it started to fight him, and he wanted us to help him regain control.” At that, Dave’s mouth actually twisted, something raw and painful in his face. He hid behind his drink, looking away from Karkat, out the glass doors to the porch. “Dirk had placed AR at a higher level of his subconsciousness. It was a first defense mechanism, so if you wanted access to Dirk, you had to go deeper, to level two at least. Otherwise, you dealt with AR.”

“That’s fucking incredible,” Karkat said, impressed and unsettled in equal measure.

“Yeah, Dirk was crazy smart like that. But when he wanted to get AR back under control, we had to undo that. We had to invert them, so Dirk was on top. Wake Dirk up at a higher level in the dream and dropkick AR’s ass down a few notches.”

“How? Were you going to…” Karkat shook his head. “I know a fuckton about dream mechanics, but this is new.”

“Dirk told us how to do it. It’s his bullshit, after all, he knows it best. I had a tranq gun in the dream. I was supposed to shoot AR to drop him down into Limbo. Apparently when Dirk woke up, it’d bury AR in his subconscious.”

Dave’s mouth twitched and froze, stuck in an awful rictus. The pain was clear on his face, and Karkat took a shuddering breath. “What went wrong?” he asked, as gently as he could, as gently as Dave could stand without lashing out.

For a long moment, Dave said nothing, continuing to stare out at the night. In the distance, the moon shimmered on the ocean surface. “AR was on us. I rewound the dream too many times. It was falling in around us. Jake--” Dave sucked in a breath. “I shot the wrong one.”

“Jake?”

“ _I_ was extractor. _I_ was holding the gun.” He shrugged almost mechanically. “That what you need to know, Vantas?”

He wished it was. The entire job was leaving him a bad feeling, a worryingly familiar one. “Dave. Are you… Do we _know_ that Dirk is in there?”

“Yes,” Dave said without hesitation.

As if Striders could bend reality through sheer force of bullheaded will alone. Not outside the dream, Dave. Well then. “All right.”

Karkat stood, and Dave finally looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he arrived. “Jade hired you because you’re the literal best, huh?”

It would be so easy to be an egotistic shithead and joke about that. But that wasn’t what Dave needed right now, so Karkat nodded, holding his approximate gaze through the glasses. “So they tell me.”

“Okay. Cool.” Dave knocked back the last of his drink all at once, then grabbed both the empty glasses, putting them in the sink. He turned, walked towards the stairs.

Karkat followed, catching Dave’s hand on the railing. “Do you… If you needed to…” To what? To talk? To _Karkat_? Dave Strider probably would have preferred stabbing forks into his eyes, no matter how sullen and tired he looked, how he was spending way too much time watching his brother’s body and ripping himself apart inside.

And what were _you_ gonna do about it, _Vantas_? Give him a repeat performance? Like the last time was such a fucking success, right.

Karkat slid his hand back into the pocket of his jacket. Dave looked down on him from the stairs, and tilted his head.

“Night,” Dave said, and left.

“Yeah,” Karkat sighed, feeling exhausted and achey. “Night.”


	4. we'll figure it out somehow

**> Rose: Be a good host.**

Everyone was still stirring upstairs when Rose headed down, already fully dressed and ready for the day. It would prove to be a busy one, she was certain; last night, she could hear Terezi and Karkat talking late into the night, planning. Clearly the time for a concrete solution to their problem was coming.

So, while everyone fought over the three bathrooms-- and truly it took a full house to make Jade’s facilities seem inadequate-- Rose worked around the kitchen. Jade had two large pitchers (plastic, because Jade cared more about function than looks) in the cabinets. Setting them on the island, Rose unearthed the jug of orange juice from the fridge as well as the champagne she’d stashed in there last night.

Stashed it last night after, of course, accidentally overhearing her brother’s tête-à-tête with their extractor. When she’d picked up on the then-thought-unresolved tension between them yesterday, she hadn’t dreamed Dave and Karkat had real _history_ , but then they must’ve. She should have known, given how hard it was for Dave to work up any genuine anger toward anyone, let alone harbor a grudge for years.

She’d have to get the details from him somehow to best ascertain how to help.

Each pitcher half-filled with orange juice, Rose popped the cork on the champagne and began to portion it out, dividing the stream of fizzy wine as evenly as she could.

“Has my companion already driven you so solidly to drink? I should apologize on his behalf,” Kanaya said as she swept in. She looked beautiful, even so early in the day. Rose had already seen her in three separate outfits, now in a different lightweight skirt and rather lowcut top. Rose would’ve assumed she’d make an effort to hide the ivory tone of her skin, but apparently not. Perhaps there was less stigma around rainbow drinkers than humans would have for vampires.

Rose smirked as she finished pouring. “I have no problem with Mr. Vantas. He’s certainly loud, but I can relate to someone who doesn’t suffer idiots. No, as much as I might enjoy hoarding all this to myself like a particularly inebriated dragon, this is for our group meeting.”

“How kind of you to share,” Kanaya said.

“It’s not so self-sacrificial. I know my family and friends well, and I know that we are _all_ going to need a drink or three to get through this.” Rose turned to the cabinets again and pulled down a stack of green plastic tumblers. Inelegant, but it was what was on the inside that counted, and inside would be alcohol.

“You do have a point. May I?” At Rose’s nod, Kanaya lifted one of the pitchers, falling into step with Rose as they adjourned to the living room, armed for the day.

**== >**

Roxy and Callie had already claimed the big armchair, squeezed in together, both still in their pajamas. Roxy wolf whistled as Rose and Kanaya entered. “Now _that_ is a beautiful sight. Come to mama,” she cheered, holding out both her hands with grasping fingers.

“No, you lush,” Rose chided, setting the pitcher down and unstacking the glasses to fill them. “Does anyone wish to abstain from mimosas?”

Calliope raised her hand. “Oh, I would prefer something a little less liquored up, if you don’t mind.”

“There is apple juice in the fridge, I believe,” Kanaya offered as she put the other pitcher down.

“Oh, yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Dave, sprawled upside down in the papasan, lifted a hand into the air. “Conductor, can I catch a ride on that AJ Express?” His sunglasses seemed to stay on his face out of force of habit alone, ignoring gravity.

Kanaya nodded, and glided back down the hall.

Everyone settled around the room, with Jake carrying in more chairs from the foyer when they ran out of seats, Jade apologizing for not being prepared. Eventually, Terezi walked in, stick tapping her way between everyone. Following behind was Karkat, pushing a whiteboard.

“Oh, it’s been so long since we’ve done something like this!” Terezi said, grinning broadly. “What do we call this one? Operation Invert The Dirk? Dreamshare All-Stars? Stick to the classics, go with The Strider Job?”

Karkat huffed, dragging the eraser angrily over the whiteboard, removing remnants of chore schedules and little cartoon Becs. “We don’t name jobs. Jobs get names when they go catastrophically wrong.”

Rose snorted. It was hard to argue that logic. She poured two more glasses, handed one to Terezi, then tapped Karkat’s elbow. “Mr. Vantas.”

His head jerked up, narrowing on Rose’s face, then following the line of her arm to the glass. “What?”

“Mimosa, if you like.”

His nose wrinkled. “No, I can’t. Working.” He tapped the board for emphasis.

Taking her own seat on a cushy ottoman, Jade smiled. “Oh, Karkat, please. As your employer, I _insist_.”

They shared a look, Jade continuing to smile and Karkat glaring. After a moment, he relented, taking the drink. Growling, he _downed_ it, head tipped back and throat working as he swallowed the entire thing, his free hand lifted to flip Jade off.

Jade returned the gesture amicably while Calliope giggled.

Kanaya returned to survey the scene and sigh despairingly. “Oh, have we already reached this part of the job, Karkat?” There was a tired nostalgia to her voice.

Karkat wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and handed the tumbler back to Rose. “Thanks. Okay, no more fucking around. Terezi and I have been up all night working on this and I am not going over things twice, so pay attention.”

 

* * *

**> [S] Briefing.**

 

Terezi lifted her hand in the air, then slammed her cane once against the ground. “Briefing start! Pay attention to your resident Seer of Mind, and let me lay down the law of how we are going to do this. Our goal, everyone, is to enter the mind of one Dirk Strider, recover him from the lower levels of his subconscious, and send his supershade, the Auto-Responder, down to Limbo. We’re going to reverse the inversion.

“We’re going to be using a three tiered dream for this. Everyone in this room will have a part in this. We want to overwhelm this AR shade, but do it smart, so when we smash his head into Limbo, he won’t know what hit him.”

Karkat, behind her, uncapped a marker and started to draw on the board. Three long horizontal lines. Next to the top one, he wrote _Level One - Harley._

 

 

“Fair to assume that we will not be able to reach Dirk on the first level of the dream,” Terezi said. “We should use that to our advantage to build a safe zone. Jade, you said you’re not up for complex dreaming, but you _are_ a Space dreamer, right?”

Jade nodded. “I am, yes. Witch of Space. My dreams are… really _painfully_ obviously dreams, but I have a lot of control over them.” She smoothed her hands down her skirt. “Actually, almost absolute control on upper levels.”

“That is perfect. We want to have a stable place to set up everything.” She turned her head back to the whiteboard, inhaled deeply. “Where are you at?”

“Fucking relax, a good visual aid takes work,” Karkat muttered. From the top, above the three lines, he drew down several more, each one meeting the Level One line. Standing up on his toes, he started drawing squiggles atop each vertical line.

Rose cleared her throat, raising her hand. “What are you illustrating, Mr. Vantas?”

“Who is going to be in each dream.”

“What are the… things at the top?”

“Those…” Karkat looked over his shoulder, glaring at her. “Symbols? We all know our dream symbology, don’t we?” He pointed to the leftmost one. “See, Space for Jade--”

“Oh, I see it now,” Roxy said brightly. “They don’t have a lot of art classes on Alternia, huh?”

Kanaya pointed to the board. “I am a Space dreamer as well, so how--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Karkat growled, reaching up to erase his squiggles. Instead, he jotted down initials. JH, KM, RL, and onward. “Terezi, keep talking before I strangle someone.”

 

 

“Level Two is where things pick up. Kanaya will be the dreamer, and AR will be the subject. It has to be a really convincing dream, and we’ll spend the most time building that one. We want to lure AR in and then keep him from getting away. Dream like a steel trap surrounded in penrose loops. Plenty of hiding places for our dreamers, since we know AR will recognize most of the team.”

Karkat left Jade’s line where it was, but continued the rest down to the next horizontal line, labeling it _Level Two - Kanaya_. He briskly capped the marker and turned.

 

 

“Kanaya is our heavy hitter as far as dreams go. She’s a Space dreamer too, and un-fucking-cannily good at making something that feels real and stable, and can revise the dreamscape on the fly,” he explained. “This security suite is going to be looking for us, and as soon as he realizes we’re there, he’s going to try and send us to Limbo. So we’re stacking the deck in our favor as much as we can.” He tapped his marker against his hand irritably, a hard quick rhythm. “Meanwhile, I’ll have my shades covering our asses as much as I can--”

“Shades?” Jane asked, sitting up straighter. “Shades are generally _bad_ things. I thought that was why Terezi-- I mean.” She quieted quickly, an embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

“My shades are different,” Karkat said simply. “Anyway, bait AR out, and take him down. Roxy, you’re… Don’t tell me.” He tucked a hand into the inside of his jacket, withdrew a rolled sheaf of papers. Unrolling them, he read quickly. “Rogue of Void, so you’re undetectable, right? That makes you crucial to Level Two. We’ll draw AR out into the open, and you will down him without killing him so we can proceed to Level Three.”

“Hang on,” Dave broke in, and nearly everyone in the room turned to look at him. It wasn’t as if the tension between him and Karkat had been _subtle_. Dave ignored them admirably, just pointing at the papers in Karkat’s hands. “What is that?”

Karkat’s brow furrowed. “Uh, Roxy’s file? I asked Porrim to send it to me.”

“There are files?” Dave was still very upside down in his seat, but made up for it with a low, simmering anger in his voice. “You keep files on us? What the fuck, no one told me that.”

There was a half-second, when Karkat’s eyes narrowed on Dave, his lip curling just slightly downward… before he bit out a sigh. “Everyone certified and on the roster has a file. Everyone who takes the test has a file. The files stay with the tester. Roxy agreed to let me get a copy of hers.” He rolled it back up, putting it back inside his jacket, all while holding Dave’s approximate gaze. “No one has seen yours since I wrote the damn thing, all right?”

Dave grunted, and behind his glasses shut his eyes.

“Diversion over?” Terezi asked sharply. “Good. Level Three!” She slapped Karkat’s arm. “Back to drawing. So we’ll design the final level very carefully so Dirk and AR will place themselves in the dream. To nail it, the dreamer has to be someone who knows him, so Rose will be the dreamer with me riding along to help obfuscate.”

As she spoke, Karkat returned to the board. The last of the horizontal lines he labeled _Level Three - Rose+Terezi._ Kanaya’s line remained on the level two line while everyone else’s was extended to meet the final line.

After a moment’s pause, he added _LIMBO_ underneath the final line, before crossing it out angrily.

 

 

“Everyone along for the ride needs to locate AR and Dirk,” she said. “And listen up, this is important! _No one_ will extract Dirk until Karkat confirms his identity. We are not sending the wrong person to Limbo again!”

“And how will you do that?” Jane asked as she squinted at the whiteboard, a puzzled line between her eyebrows.

Karkat raised the hand he wasn’t using for his chart. “Knight of Blood. I can differentiate between real dreamers and projections.”

“That’s… _really_?”

Karkat threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Yep. That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”

Terezi reached over and ruffled Karkat’s hair. He wheeled back, glaring at her angrily, making her cackle. “Once Karkat does that, you shoot AR, and you ride the kick out. When Dirk wakes up, he’s back in control.” She whipped her stick to the side, tapping it against the board, an inch from his face. “Foolproof! Inspired! Industry-changing!”

“Terezi, I’m not done, _stop_ ,” Karkat groused. He put his marker to the the board again and illustrated each line moving back up to the top level. When he got to Dirk’s, he paused, then awkwardly branched the single line in two; AR kept going down while Dirk returned to the top. “There.”

 

 

“It’s beautiful,” Dave said.

“Thank you, coolkid,” Terezi said graciously. She bowed deeply, leg extending behind her and everything, before she poured herself another glass of mimosa and collapsed next to John in his chair. He grunted in pain as her elbow dug someplace soft, but obligingly made room for her.

 

* * *

**> Karkat: Wrap this up.**

 

As soon as Terezi stepped away, Karkat shook a little, stretching his neck and shoulders. It was almost a physical weight on his shoulders, having so many people looking at him. Most of them were now his responsibility. Fuck. He wondered if it was too late to renegotiate with Jade again. Or maybe just _swim_ back to the mainland. He never tried out his gills before, really.

He held up a finger. “First order of business. Architects, we’re going to need Kanaya’s dreamscape to be fucking _foolproof_ and to have a safe retreat position for after we kick over the buzzbug hive and have AR in custody. Terezi and Rose, work together on it. Priority one. Then, when that’s done, we need designs for four other dreamscapes.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Four? I was expecting two… That seems excessive.”

“Back ups. Rose, you’re our intended dreamer for Level Three, but this AR asshole is going to try to Limbo us as soon as he catches on. We need contingency plans. I want Dave, Jake, and Roxy to have dreamscapes ready in case we need to change the plan on the fly. And keep in mind, no one dreamer can know the other’s dreamscape.”

Jade smiled at that. “Well, I can break out all the architect gear at least! Oh, Rose, I have a holographic projector, this is going to be so fun!”

“ _Four different dreamscapes_ , Jade,” Karkat reminded her. “Save your weird enthusiasm for this incredibly fucking dangerous field for another day.”

“You are the anti-fun, Karkat,” Jade told him earnestly.

“Yeah, but you hired me to keep people alive and sane. You want a recreational dreamer, go to Dubai. Or Portland.” He put up another finger. “Important fucking bulletin number two: we are not staking the success of this job on some amatuer hour double kick bullshit. We’re doing this like the Project did, with rolling kicks. Jade and Kanaya, this is why your aspects are key. You can handle that?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Roxy put both her hands in the air. “We have multiple kicks? How does that work?”

“Every time someone asks me that question, a little piece of my soul breaks off and crumbles into ash,” Karkat said. “It works by me saying I would rather boot someone up into a higher level of the dream than risk losing them to Limbo.” He unfolded his arms, holding his hands out flat, face down. “While we are sleeping on one and two, Jade and Kanaya are going to produce soft kicks.” He lifted his hands, and dropped them, stopped, then lifted again. “It’s not as harsh a motion as a full kick, but if you combine it with a shock within the dream, you rise up.” He tucked his arms away again. “Project tactic we used in our more complicated dreamshare experiments.”

“A shock within the dream?” Rose echoed.

“Yes,” Kanaya said. “It can be anything that would cause a shock outside the dream too. Such as being tripped or…”

“The, uh.” Karkat pointed a finger to his head, miming a gun. “The usual tactic. That works. This way, if someone is hurt, we can kick them up instead of to Limbo. They’ll be every few minutes in the dream. We’ll have to synch up or… ask Dave, that’d be the safest bet.”

Still sitting upside down like a petulant idiot, Dave saluted.

“We’ll have the final double kick too, of course,” Karkat went on. “This team is just too fucking big to rely on that alone, or worse, Vriskaing it.”

Roxy shuddered. “Yeeeeah, let’s not use Limbo as an escape route.”

“No shit. Speaking of safety measures I wish this fucking industry would use…” He pointed across the coffee table to where Roxy and Calliope were sitting. “Calliope, do you want in on this action?”

Calliope stiffened, surprised. “What? Me?”

“Yeah. I’m just… basically making up shit as I go here, because I didn’t know you’d be here, but now you _are_ , and…” He shrugged. “You could help out, if you’re willing.” And maybe he spoke a little softer to her, but it was hard not to. Calliope hadn’t been with the Project long, or at least his tenure in it didn’t overlap much with hers, but everything Karkat remembered of her had been… nice, if a bit overly solicitous of his Alternian background.

Still. Asking questions about a ‘trollsona’ was nothing compared to the shit he’d been dealing with on Alternia, so he didn’t hold it against her.

Her hands laced tightly together, and she glanced at Roxy briefly before nodding. “I’m not sure how much help I can be, but…”

“I just want you to be a failsafe,” Karkat explained. “On level one, we all enter the dream normally. Then, the main team enters Kanaya’s dream. Separately, I’d like you and Terezi to each use another MASIV-- or maybe just a PASIV, whatever-- to enter Rose and Roxy’s dreams, and ride along. Riding requires less sedation since you’re not populating or dreaming the landscape. So, if something goes seriously wrong,” he snapped his fingers, thumb up, “you two can be kicked all the way back to waking and let Jane know if we need to be woken up early.

“It’s just a worst case scenario failsafe. Like, if-- if a dream collapses or we lose anyone to Limbo,” Karkat said. “Retreat to Jade, have her kick you, and report to Jane.”

Calliope nodded along the entire time, a smile starting to unfurl over her dark green face. “That… almost sounds fun! Getting to ride along and see the action, and pull the parachute if needed. I’d love to.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rose said, following suit and holding up her hand, like Karkat was their human school teacher of something. At least it was a polite human habit, he supposed. “I was under the impression that cherubs could not dreamshare.”

“Wrong. Jegus, I expected better from you, Lalonde. Ten points from Ravenclaw.”

Terezi barked a laugh. “What? She’s Slytherin.”

“Really?”

Terezi tapped the corner of her glasses. “Seer of Mind.”

Rolling his eyes, Karkat said, “Nuh uh, no, fuck that, don’t pull that shit, you’ve never dreamed with her so you have no idea.” He shook himself. “Anyway… the fuck was I saying?”

“That you totally need another drink,” Roxy stage whispered, sending him a wink.

That… wasn’t a bad idea. It was pretty tasty besides. Karkat poured himself another half-glass, this time drinking it at a reasonable rate. “Mm, right, cherubs. You’re wrong. The whole predomination phenomenon that cherubs go through was the baseline of the original Project experiments. The weird shit that does to their brains was where the idea came from. Cherubs can’t be _stable_ dreamers, but they can technically enter dreams and ride along with others. They’re actually better at riding than anyone.”

Roxy put her arm around Calliope’s shoulder. “Check out my cowgirl. This is going to be great.”

“Yeah, well. We can use the help.” Karkat looked around the room, at the whiteboard behind him. One of his better pieces of work, concise and totally clear and necessary. Yep. “Any questions? No? Good. Architects, get building. Four dreamscapes. When they’re done, the dreamers will have a day to learn them. Day after, we’re running the job. Do whatever prep you need, and we’ll go save Dirk Strider from his own terrifying fucking brain.”

“Excellent!” Calliope said brightly. “I’ll need a totem then! How exciting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stunning art is courtesy of [hwasang](http://hwasang.tumblr.com/), or "karkats long lost hatchmate." God bless.
> 
> HOPE YOU LIKED ALL THAT EXPOSITION AND SET-UP. Gotta tell you how things are _supposed_ to go so it can all go off the rails later.


	5. so that you can breathe

**> Calliope: Choose a totem.**

Strictly speaking, Calliope did not _need_ a totem.

She understood the theory of them. They’d been invented long after she left the Project, but they’d become a ubiquitous part of world culture, as dreamsharing slowly moved into the public sphere. In most countries, the practice was very illegal outside of government dreamsharing teams, but… well. Roxy always seemed to have _plenty_ of work, and more than a few shows and movies about the industry had been made.

Calliope loved those movies, showing off the glitzy possibility of dreamsharing. It was fun to imagine Roxy in impossible landscapes with vibrant dresses, pulling off incredible heists.

Calliope couldn’t dream like that. She, in fact, could not be fooled by the mirage of a dream. She knew when she was sleeping, unerringly. According to the Project Ophiuchus scientists, the very thing in her brain that led them to their breakthroughs in dreamsharing was the very thing that made it impossible for her to do it herself. When every aspect of your dreaming was entirely lucid, there was nothing to manipulate or build from or investigate.

But despite all that, she could ride along in Roxy’s brain. Finally, a chance to dig her claws into something she’d only imagined before.

The very thought had her excited, even if it was coming at Dirk’s expense.

In the morning, Calliope sat on the bed and watched as Roxy put on her makeup, standing in front of the vanity, armed with liquid eyeliner. It was a strange combination, she thought, the way Roxy mixed her flawlessly constructed makeup with her cutoffs, suspenders, and loose flannel shirt.

Even with her complete lack of understanding of fashion, Calliope thought Roxy looked lovely.

“I was wondering something,” Calliope said. “Assuming it’s not rude to ask about totems.”

Roxy smiled at Calliope in the mirror. “Yeah? What’cha want to know, babe, my knowledge is yours.”

“Well, what’s yours? I don’t think I’ve see you toy with any little trinkets.”

Her smile widened into a wild smirk, and she reached down to her ankle holster, already strapped on above her shoes. Tapping her handgun, she said, “Little miss bang bang here. In a dream, it never runs out of shots.”

“Oh, that seems handy.” Calliope laced her fingers, claws tapping idly together. “I’m trying to think of something good for mine.”

“Well,” Roxy said, capping her eyeliner and circling around to the bed, throwing herself onto her back across the comforter. Her hands tucked under her head, and she bent one knee, balanced the other on top. “Rose has one of her knitting needles as hers. It’s weighed weirdly so she can, like, toss it and it lands a certain way. Dave…” She frowned. “I’ve seen him with a pocket watch in dreams, so I assume that’s his? It probably ticks differently in dreams or something. Dirk used AR, but that clearly went to shit.”

“How was that meant to work?”

“Dirk would know he was dreaming because AR was there in the flesh, so to speak, and would tell him he’s asleep. But apparently AR went rogue in a big way, starting working to convince Dirk he was awake.”

There was a quietening to the set of Roxy’s eyes, her overactive dark eyebrows knitting together in sadness, concern. Calliope nodded slowly, but felt somewhat lost. She was _aware_ this was a scary prospect, but she didn’t really understand.

With a small nod, Roxy put the look away, smiling. “So! What are you thinking of, babe?”

“It’s difficult! We’re hardly home at the ranch. Taking anything from Jade’s home seems both unfair and… unlikely to work as a totem?”

“You tend to use power tools or something to change the totem so it’s something only you will know. You want any object you can carry in your pocket and modify.”

With that in mind, Calliope hopped off the bed and pulled her suitcase out from under the boxspring. Most of their things were put away in the drawers and closet of the room, but Calliope had brought more than clothes and sundry.

Calliope had met Roxy online. When Alternian culture started to pick up popularity on Earth, humans got into using the same sorts of chats and services the trolls did. It became fairly common to meet people who didn’t know enough about Earth culture to pass for human or Alternian culture to pass for troll. Calliope found she fit in very nicely there, in webspaces where no one thought twice about the gaps in her understanding and alien nature.

Calliope had greatly enjoyed fan forums in particular, and particularly the ones about the human boy wizard with the scar. She liked drawing art, both from the books and of her own Hogwarts wizardsona. One of her most consistent sources of feedback had been tipsyGnostalgic, leaving comments on Calliope’s art dotted as liberally with typos as heart emojis.

Two years later, TG had suggested they meet up at a con. Calliope had been too scared-- she’d gotten away with playing the role of a troll for so long and hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell TG she was something even more alien.

She’d expected that to be the end of their friendship, but TG stuck around, and waited a whole other year (and a shared stint in the Dragon Age fandom-- TG was up for _anything_ with wizards) before floating the idea of another meet at the new Harry Potter theme park, “if u can maek it to planet earth.”

Calliope had long since left the Project and had still lived on Earth, so after almost a solid week of worrying and deliberation, agreed to the trip.

In the two months leading up, Calliope simply… forgot to explain to TG that she _wasn’t_ a troll. It had haunted her every waking moment until they finally met outside the wand shop.

TG introduced herself as “Roxy the Babe Lalonde,” and had kissed Calliope on each cheek, fearless with her dark lips against strange green cherub skin, and had looped her arm in Calliope’s while they wandered around Hogsmeade together. Later, in their shared hotel, Roxy had asked a few questions about species, but not many before commandeering the TV remote and putting on a movie.

It was still the happiest weekend of Calliope’s life. Years later, even when they traveled, she kept a few of the souvenirs from the trip with her. At the bottom of her suitcase was one of them, a replica wand made of firm, polished white wood. She grabbed it, held it up triumphantly. “How about this?”

A look of soft surprise crossed Roxy’s face before she smiled, and rolled across the bed to put an arm around Calliope. “Perfect. Jade’s loaded with crafts and tool things, you can make a bangin’ totem with that.”

“Excellent! I’ll be just like one of the team. Even if I’m just riding along.”

Roxy’s thumb rubbed against the sharp slope of Calliope’s temple. “You’re totally one of us. And I can’t thank you enough, Callie.”

Calliope put her hand over Roxy’s. “Always, Roxy. I’m always here for you."

* * *

 

 **> John: Pester Terezi.**  

 

John had always thought of the basement as… okay, he didn’t think of the basement, really. It was one of the _many_ expensive, possibly superfluous additions to the household, like the observatory and the trophy hall. The dream lab sat unused for so long, due to John’s early retirement from the dreamshare business and Jade’s lack of talent for dreaming.  He really didn’t know why she got it installed.  For him, presumably, but. 

Regardless, it was getting more attention and occupancy than ever before. The spectre of AR continued to exist in the side room, turning its cold gaze on anyone unlucky enough to pass by the observation window. Jane had spent her time getting familiar with the MASIV setup, adding more IV lines and checking the equipment every day, treating it like a ritual or something.

Beyond that, behind a screen, was the architecture station, where Rose and Terezi seemed to be spending all their waking hours. Tables had been set up into stations, and each one slowly accumulated the effects of dream architecture work: sketches on paper napkins and jotted words on legal pad, to light pencil work on huge sketchbooks, to _lego blocks_ , to blueprints, all spilling over the table like morning light. John always found architecture  work interesting, but fairly inscrutable. Vriska never put much emphasis on it when she was teaching him, and by the time that was over, John wasn’t up for learning anything else.

Today, when John wandered down to the lab, Jane was watching over Rose as she dreamed in the MASIV, sitting on a stool and leaning forward on her knees like a watchful gargoyle. She gave John a quiet nod as he walked by, then returned to the book she had held in one hand. As far as chemists went, Jane Crocker was the most thorough and accomplished that John had ever heard of. If Terezi was going to risk going dreaming again, at least she’d be under Jane’s supervision. That was something.

Speaking of.

John slid beyond the screen and found Terezi sitting on one of the tables, her legs crossed into a tight pretzel, leaning forward to dance her hands over the blocks in front of her, her dark tongue poking out between darker lips as she shifted things minutely around.

It was hard to see from the angle, but it seemed she was working on a maze. Which, as far as dream architecture went was the most standard of standards. Still, he stood by to watch for a while, trying to find where the starting point was, where the exit was.

Terezi eventually took a deep breath. “John, don’t lurk around me. I can’t work in these conditions.”

John immediately smirked, wandering a bit closer. “What, does my presence constitute some kind of-- of inhospitable working condition or something?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Terezi chimed, not ceasing in her work.

“What’s this one, then?” He tapped the table, careful not to disturb anything.

“Rose and mine, level three.”

“Maze is a bit cliche.”

“It’s not a maze, idiot.” She snorted, her lips quirking up into a smirk.

John frowned and leaned in to examine the terrain that Terezi was crafting under her palms like so much sand. “It looks like a maze.”

“It’s a gift to the universe that you never worked as an architect.” She sat back fully, spreading her hands wide to encompass the entire vista of blocks. “This is a labyrinth.”

“Which is…?”

“Totally different. Mazes have multiple paths and dead ends, forks and things. A labyrinth is a single convoluted path leading from the outside start point to the center goal. There’s no pathing needed, just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you reach your destination.”

“Oh. And that’s… better?”

Terezi sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, invisible behind her red glasses but clear in the exaggerated motion of her head. “Strider is a human who will have human associations, and we are using that to place him in the dream. Build a maze, and people will place themselves at the start or the goal, depending on the depths of convoluted tangles in their psyche. Harder to predict, even for me, since I haven’t dreamed with him yet. But,” she held up one pointy finger. “According to Rose, if we hand this dumb human a labyrinth, he will unerringly place himself in the center. So its just a matter of reaching him before his supershade does.”

“So it’ll be a flat out race.” That didn’t sound like the greatest idea, really.

“Of course not. There are shortcuts being built in, they’ll let Rose reach the center ahead of time.”

John smirked. “Then it _is_ a maze.”

A low growl rolled out of Terezi, and she picked up her walking stick from where it was stood resting against the table. John ducked, felt it whip over his head, and laughed.

Terezi got back to work as soon as he subsided, her hands feeling across the map, tracing the pathways laid out. John wondered how long it’d been since she’d done this, if it came easily after all these years. And if that was even a good thing.

That Terezi was willing to do this, to go back under, was… It was a relief, because they needed her. But it also sat sour in John’s chest, some sort of uncomfortable mix of guilt and worry.

The last thing John wanted was to lose her again, especially this time, when he couldn’t follow.

Leaning on the table next to her, John watched her face. “So do you…” He stopped, cleared his throat. “Do you miss her, sometimes?”

Terezi stilled for just a moment, just a blip in her constant movement. Her lips parted in a wry grin. “She hasn’t really given me the chance, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” John murmured, nodding. “Yeah, I think I do.”

* * *

 

**> Karkat: Bond with your new team.**

 

Dream inventory had always been a kind of pain in the ass. It was a simple prospect for a dreamer to create a cache in a dream, to seed items around the environment to be picked up. But when a hostile subject was populating the dream, especially one like AR, a cache wasn’t good enough.

So, Harley had a shooting range and armory. Because Harley was a singularly impressive if irritating human, so overprepared for every eventuality, she made Troll MacGuyver look like a chump.

It wasn’t impossible to bring something into the dream and have it at the ready. But it required a little more work. Taking a little time outside the dream to get familiar with the item.

Standard procedure. If Karkat just thought about everything like that, it was easier not to get caught up in how fucking shithive the entire job was.

Dave stood across the table and tapped his fingers against the surface, long enough Karkat was about to snap at him to knock it the fuck off, before he snapped up the beretta.

“Nice,” said Roxy. “Gonna dual wield that, or?”

“Nah. Take this and my wakizashi, probably. Good to have something for close quarters.”

“The fuck is a wakizashi?” Karkat asked.

“It’s a sword. Shorter than a katana.”

“Ugh.” Of course Dave would go with something ridiculous like that. “Look, no ninja bullshit in the dream. If I see something crawling on the walls, I’m fucking shooting it.”

Roxy tossed him a smirk like a hand grenade. “What? Are you scared of spiders, Mr. Vantas?”

A slap across the face would have been kinder. Karkat’s mouth opened around his surprised exhale. Everyone _knew_ , of course. But no one ever seemed to say shit to him about it. The open secret of the industry.

When he’d finished gaping at her, Karkat let out one hard laugh. “You… you’re an _asshole_ , Lalonde.” He couldn’t help but be a little impressed with it, honestly. “But don’t fucking invoke the late spider queen, fucking jegus, we don’t need that miasma of bullshit shrouded over this job.”

“Sorry, boss,” Roxy chirped, and _wow_ , Karkat sort of hated how much he liked her brand of bravado.

“Don’t, Rox, christ,” Dave said in a pained voice. He was taking the gun apart with steady hands, pieces set neatly apart on the table.

Roxy beamed at him, then turned her attention to the arsenal. “I’ve got my hand blaster, that’s a cinch to pull in a dream. But I’m thinking…” One dark nail tapped against the scoped rifle at the end of the table before she plucked it up, setting it against her shoulder. As far as Karkat knew, the Strider-Lalondes did not have any combat training, but moved like they could’ve, better than some of the Twelve had, definitely.

“We do need someone with long range, preferably, yeah,” Karkat agreed. “And given your dreamer class-- Rogue of Void, right?”

“Invisible sniper baby,” Roxy said, using her free hand to give him a thumbs up.

Karkat made a mental note to talk to the architects and add some sniper perches to the dreams. They needed to take every advantage they could get. It was the architects’ job, and they’d handle it, they were good fucking architects, but Karkat could still feel it in his fucking teeth, the grinding nervousness.

Why the fuck did he agree to this again? Oh, right. Finally buying a house on Earth. Getting a meowbeast.

An elbow knocked into his side. “What’re you gonna pick?” Roxy asked. “You know, boss, people say you were trained with _sicles_ back in the old days.”

“People sure do say a fucking lot.”

“And that Kanaya uses a chainsaw.”

Karkat grinned. “Oh, _that’s_ true. But, no, I think…” He dragged a hand through his hair, frowning as he got caught on a knot. He needed a cut. It was the last of his worries, though. “I have my own usual for close quarters, but I’ll handle the tranq gun this time.”

As soon as he said it, Karkat knew it was a misstep. Across from him, Dave’s hands stilled in his methodical reassembly of his beretta. To his credit, he didn’t say shit, just… left. Set the gun on the table again, soft enough to not make more than the slightest noise, and left the room.

Karkat watched him go, holding in his sigh until Dave was hopefully well out of earshot. When he looked up, Roxy had her eyes on him. “You know, I’m pretty tempted to revoke his certification. Make him retest for it. He is torn the fuck up over this.”

Which was a fucking unprofessional thing to say, really. Thank god for his shitty reputation, he supposed. Roxy just had one of those faces that invited personal confessions.

“You could,” Roxy said slowly. “But it won’t matter, let’s be honest. None of us will go in without him, and he’s…” She shrugged. “He’s Dirk Strider’s little brother.”

She didn’t need to tell Karkat that. He’d known that from the moment Rose Lalonde had fucking scheduled herself and Dave for testing, that it was _courtesy_ , that it was _polite_. Fucking Strider-Lalondes. “Yeah. I know. Your family is pretty fucking ridiculous. Except you. You’re handling this better than the rest of them.”

Roxy’s laugh was sudden and sharp. “ _Ha_ , no. Last night, Callie had to steal a roll of TP from the bathroom. I was crying so damn much, I blew through an entire tissue box.”

She was so jovial about it, Karkat leaned back, uncertain. “Oh. Shit. Sorry. We’ll, uh. We’re going to bring him home?” How fucking weak was that? Karkat quickly looked down at the weapons again, clearing his throat with effort.

A hand patted his back twice, brisk. “I know. Thanks for being here, Vantas.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.” Taking a deep breath, Karkat picked up the tranq gun, slammed a magazine into it, and walked towards the shooting range. He had work to do.

 

**== >**

 

He and Roxy spent a few hours at the range. It was work, learning the nuances of their weapons of choice and committing the details to memory. Necessary, and tedious. 

The silence that settled over them was weirdly comfortable. Karkat was not well-practiced at peaceful co-existence, always unerringly finding _some_ point of friction with everyone. Even Kanaya, sometimes, thought he was eternally grateful for her patience after all these years.

Roxy was… cool. It made him feel like he was ten sweeps old again to even think it, but it was inescapable. She was nice to work alongside if not actually _with_ , and by the time they replaced their firearms, Karkat felt a huge chunk of the tension in his posture pole leave him.

She offered her fist for a bump. “Later, boss.”

It was his first human fistbump. It felt good.

By the time they parted ways, the group dinner had come and gone. The kitchen still smelled warm and homey from whatever had been made, but it’d been polished off, it seemed; not so much as a single leftover food container remained.

As Karkat puttered around the kitchen, looking for something easy to eat, his attention was drawn out the sliding glass doors. Someone was outside, sitting on the edge of the porch, alone.

Because he could never leave well enough alone and this was now _his team_ , for fuck’s sake, Karkat grabbed a water from the fridge and let himself outside, blinking slowly as his eyes swiftly adjusted.

Jake English. Karkat barely knew anything about him; apparently he was a forger, and Kanaya recalled his face but no real details about his certification. Unremarkable, but effective. Which was more than could be said for a lot of people in the field.

Still, it was hard not to wonder what he was doing with this crowd.

He was sitting with his arm held out, propped on his knee. A few lightning bugs were flitting around, some landing on his skin and pulsing chemical yellow-green light.

Karkat took a step forward, leaning his weight until the wooden deck creaked. Jake looked up slowly.

“Oh, well, Mr. Vantas. Hullo.” He seemed unsure what to do with Karkat’s presence. “Erm. Nice night, don’t you think?”

“Better than the day,” Karkat agreed. He crossed the deck to lean on one of the support columns, leaving a few feet between him and Jake.

“Oh. Right, you’re nocturnal and all. Or, so they say.”

“They?”

“All the rags that talk about trolls. Or… Alternians? Is there a preferred term? I can’t say I keep abreast of all the intercultural jargon.” Jake smiled, seeming almost bashful.

“Either’s fine, relax.” He twisted the cap off the bottle, tipped some back. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been until he downed half the water one go. “What’re you doing out here?”

His smile didn’t shift one iota, but Karkat still got the feeling it was suddenly very fake. “I can’t imagine another place to be right now, really.”

There were times when being who he was and having his reputation made Karkat’s life a lot easier. When you were already the overbearing dictator of the industry, you didn’t have much to risk with people. Crossing his arms, Karkat stared at Jake. “I’d really like to know what the hell’s going on with you and the others. Everyone’s been preparing for the job together. Except you. Are you going to be ready for this?”

“I absolutely will, Mr. Vantas,” Jake said. “I might not be an alumnus of your fine establishment of dreaming forefathers and mothers, and I might not have a brand to my name, but I’ve been at this for years now. Perhaps not as prolifically as my compatriots, but at least as consistently.”

“That so. Hard not to notice some of the tension between you and your _compatriots_.”

Jake blushed, looking away and back out over the pumpkin patch that sprawled out from the patio. “Ah, well. Jane has her reasons.” Nevermind that it was a lot more than just Crocker. “I… daren’t admit such a thing in anyone’s general listening vicinity, but I have as much reason to be invested in Dirk’s retrieval than anyone.”

Yeah, saying that around the Strider-Lalondes would probably be a bad idea. Even if they were less hostile to Jake than Crocker was, they were giving him a wide berth. “Are you guys close?”

Jake’s smile turned genuine again. “Oh, not like we once were, I think. I, erm. I got into this business thanks to good ol’ Dirk. Though that wasn’t his intention, I don’t think.”

“Oh?” Karkat prompted, because he could feel it was needed and he _was_ curious. He’d wound up in dreamsharing to stay the fuck away from Alternia. When people with power offered to trade a perpetual Earthbound visa for his help in dangerous, shady pseudo-medical experiments, Karkat had signed the dotted line.

The idea of anyone getting into professional dreaming by accident or unintentionally was a foreign concept. It was a job of necessity. Whether you were addicted to the dreamer’s high or in need of illegal work that paid well or were avoiding being culled and made an example of, it wasn’t a _choice_.

So what the hell was Jake English doing here?

“John’s my cousin, see, and he’s known the family since they were young rascals, before even the Project, I think. He introduced us, back years ago, when Dirk was first getting into the game.” Jake swayed to the side, leaning on the column next to him, staring out over the grass, the blinking lights illuminating his face sporadically. “I made a bully first impression, hopping into Dirk’s mind with the PASIV he was dozing with.”

“Why does that sort of thing happen so much,” Karkat bemoaned. “Why can’t you people leave the PASIVs you incidentally cross paths with fucking alone?”

Chuckling, Jake shrugged. “Might be better for everyone, but. They’re hard to resist. I barely knew what was happening the first time, but I knew it was…” He blew out a breath. “Ever since I was young, I wanted to be an explorer of some sort. Have some grand adventure and discover something new. Then, I grew up and we’d already conquered the sea, the Wild West, and space.”

“Which left, what? The frontier of your subconscious?”

“Well, yes! Or, others’ subconscious. Not a fan of my own, if I’m honest.” He glanced up at Karkat, biting his lip. “You think it’s foolish, I know. And you might be right, sir. But watching everyone I care about in their element, being a part of that as much as I can, that’s… it’s as close as I’m going to get.”

“Dangerous way to get your thrills.”

“It’s not thrill-seeking, it’s a _calling_. Most days, I love it. But this…” He leaned his head against the column, eyes sliding partway shut. “This is the first time it’s turned into such a complete dog’s breakfast.” After a second, his eyes popped wide, and he shot Karkat a nervous look. “Oh, bugger me, I just realized who I’m yammering away at, I’m so sorry, Mr. Vantas.”

Karkat snorted. “It’s fine. Eight years on, I’ve come to terms with it. Just want to point out that when people leave this shitshow of an industry, it’s _always_ something like this. There’s no retirement plan and quiet departure. It’s always the one job that goes so completely fucking awry, you can’t carry on.”

That earned him a long, searching look from Jake. It was the first time Jake met his eyes, really held his gaze. It lasted a long, strange moment.

“But,” he murmured, quiet as the soft buzz of the lightning bugs, “here _you_ are.”

“Yeah. Well. Do as I say, not as I do.” He finished off his water with another long pull from the bottle. The heart to heart had gone on long enough. “Just think about it, okay? And get some sleep.”

Jake nodded, his attention returning to his solitary watch over the island. “Will do. Same to you.”

“Yeah,” Karkat sighed, begrudgingly giving up as he retreated back into the house.

He just hoped everyone would get through this one intact.

* * *

 

**> Rose: Smoke with Dave.**

 

Five days after Kanaya and Karkat had joined their number, Karkat had interrupted dinner to say, “The architects are done. Tomorrow, dreamers need to memorize their dreamscapes. Day after, we’re doing this.” 

The next day had been eerily silent. Even if the reason behind it was imminently regrettable, most people visiting Chateau Harley had been enjoying each other’s company. It was unusual for so many of them to be under one roof, outside huge corporate-sponsored jobs, and even then this was the largest job Rose had ever seen. There was always a conversation or three going on, people catching up, talking shop, or about the latest spoiler on their show of choice.

But on the dawn of the sixth day, with twenty-four hours remaining, the whole house went pindrop quiet. Rose knew her dreamscape already, but the other dreamers were scattered around in separate rooms, memorizing theirs.

Everyone had their pre-job rituals. Jane was sitting practically on top of the house router to try to download more books and magazines to read while watching over the team (the chemist was a vital, irreplaceable role in the dreamshare job, but it had a _lot_ of downtime). John aided Terezi in the kitchen making an “Alternian delicacy” that sounded very much like Terezi’s attempt to make John eat the grossest combination of flavors she could get away with. Calliope was in the workshop, making a totem, which Rose complimented and offered advice on. Jade took her dog Becquerel out for a jog that turned into an entire afternoon away from everyone (Rose suspected that as much as Jade loved having company, it was also overwhelming).

When Rose allowed herself to follow her quiet attraction and interest, she sought out Kanaya, only to find her and Karkat lounging in a _decidedly_ pale fashion in the den, Kanaya’s hand folded across Karkat’s eyes as he apparently dozed. Even coming from such a family of voyeurs, Rose felt intrusive peering in at them, and left them to it.

There was no formal dinner for once, everyone eating piecemeal and segmented before turning in.

Speaking of pre-job rituals.

Rose let herself into Dave’s room, and for a moment thought he’d somehow slipped away from her. It was a routine for them, to spend the night before a mission together to go over things or to simply, as Dave would say, “synchronize that shit,” but there were no lights on in Dave’s guest room, no sign of him.

No sign, but a shadow across the window. Rose crossed the room, stepping over the discarded clothes on the floor to reach out and push open the windows.

Dave was sitting, straddling the widow’s peak of a widow’s walk, in his shirtsleeves and cotton sleeping pants and not a stitch else. When she leaned out, the window hinge creaking, he stiffened almost imperceptibly before relaxing. “Sup, sis,” he greeted, and his words came with a plume of grey smoke.

Rose gingerly climbed out, taking care to tuck her nightgown under her. It took some maneuvering with both of her hands grasping firmly on Dave’s shoulders, but she managed to sit on the peak, tucked up against his back, legs hanging one way like she was riding side-saddle. It was slightly precarious until she settled with one arm around Dave’s waist for balance. “Where did you procure a cigarette on an island in the middle of the Pacific owned by the straightest edged of our friends?”

Dave lifted a half-empty pack of cigarettes. “Found ‘em in Dirk’s gear. Figured they were gettin’ lonely.”

Setting her chin on Dave’s shoulder, she extended her other hand around him. He ashed the cigarette once before handing it over.

Whatever it was, it tasted like something Dirk would like. Rose was a _very_ occasional smoker and lacked a real palette for the various types and flavors, but the taste of this one was sharp and reminded her of-- “Clove?” she asked, clearing her throat and handing the light back to Dave.

“Heh, yeah. Prob’ly shoulda warned you. I know you’re a wimp about spices.”

“A heinous lie.”

“Rose, you think the _air_ in Texas is spicy.”

She dug a sharp finger into Dave’s side, just under his ribs, and he cough-laughed, loose and warm in a way she hadn’t heard in the last week at least.

“Mm.” She rested her head near Dave’s, looking out over the distant, endless water. “The past week has been quite the ordeal. Do you think we’re ready?”

Taking a deep breath of smoke and releasing it in a long, steady stream, Dave took his time responding. “Lot of moving parts. And AR is a fucking asshole. But we’re all pros, so provided certain people are as good as they claim to be--”

“One day,” Rose said into her brother’s ear, “you need to tell me what happened with you and Mr. Vantas.”

“I really don’t,” Dave replied sourly. “How you feel about having one of the Twelve calling shotgun to your grey matter?”

She itched to press. Long ago she’d memorized the soft vulnerable places in Dave, knew what to say and where to dig knuckles in to make him fold. There were few secrets between to twin dreamers, which made the ones that remained all the more irritating.

But she let it go, turning her cheek to rest against Dave’s shoulder. The last thing she wanted to do was wind either of them up before tomorrow. “We’ve already been working closely together with prep. Terezi is… breathtakingly clever, if incredibly abrasive.”

“That gonna work okay for riding?”

“Most of her prickly manner hasn’t been directed at me, so I believe we’ll integrate well enough. In a best case scenario, I imagine having her along will be like giving the devil on my shoulder a voice.”

Dave took a drag, considering that. “So who voices your shoulder angel in this metaphor?”

“Oh, Dirk, probably.”

“You’re fucking _kidding_. Rose, _no_.”

A giggle bubbled out of her, Dave’s indignant shock so pure and genuine. “You don’t think he’s a good choice?”

“Jesus, Rose.” He reached down and patted her arm where it sat slung around him. For just a second, his fingers dug into her skin, before he seemed to realize it and moved again, shifting restlessly against her.

Pressed along the curve of his spine, she could feel the tension in him, and leaned against him harder, tucking her face against him and putting her other arm around him. “It’s cold out here,” she said, to soften the blow, to give him permission. He nodded, and rubbed his palm up and down her arm, first briskly enough it could be mistaken for warming her up, then slower.

“It’s late, and we have an early day tomorrow. Ready to go to bed?” she asked after a few moments.

She felt the hitch in his breathing like it was her own. “In a minute,” he whispered.

Rose nodded, and shut her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter of pre-dream. the next chapter will be the _entirety_ of Levels One and Two. a lot happens, but I don't want to divide it into smaller chapters. so brace yourselves.


	6. oh, eurydice, it's an awful sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a huge chapter, strap in

**> Jane: Lullabye.**

Jane was the first one awake in the house and first to the lab.

It wasn’t intentional, but she tended to do this, to arrive first to every job location the day of the dream. Arrived with a thermos of hot tea and a croissant, and did her final checks alone. By now, she’d gone over the numbers a dozen times, had calculated somnacin doses based on each dreamers’ species and weight, fed it all into the MASIV, and even made sure the circle of chairs were equidistant from each other and from the MASIV. All the necessary preparations and the necessary fussing was done.

She sipped her tea and watched her best friend’s body through the glass.

 _Jane Crocker, you’re my only hope_. She grimaced at the thought, at AR as he roused at the lights coming on and looked up at her.

AR waved. Jane flipped him off.

“John said contact with him was a bad idea,” Jake said.

Jane felt her whole body go stiff, fingers gripping the thermos tighter. She would have assumed Rose would be the first to arrive, or the trolls maybe. Jake goddamn English hadn’t been on her list. Really, she’d avoided thinking about him as much as possible in the last week.

“Janey,” Jake said on a sigh, apparently noticing the chilly reception. What a shocker, Jake English noticing some details for once in his life. “Can we… Is this going to… to last, do you think?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jane said, still not turning to face him. “Something on your mind, _Jakey_?”

It wasn’t kind, but Jane’s allotment of kindness was running out, was burning like flash paper just from Jake’s proximity. Part of her, a deep, bitterly honest part of her, wanted to grab him and shake him, or throw him out of the room, because how _dare_ he come within a mile of Dirk after what happened, how _could_ he?

“No,” Jake said quietly. “Nothing at all. Sorry to--” He stopped, took a breath. “Sorry, Jane.”

She listened to him as his footsteps faded, and one of the chairs on the other side of the lab creaked as he took his seat.

Jane bowed her head, and shut her eyes.

**== >**

Ten dreamers was really just too many dreamers.

The start of a dream was never such a hectic event, with the entire team fitting into the room. All twelve of them together, they made the expansive lab seem small as they shuffled around into their positions. Jane had marked each chair, both to ensure the right IVs went to the right people _and_ to minimize drama by separating certain people. Keeping Karkat as far from both Dave and Jade as possible to minimize bickering was her prerogative as the chemist.

As people took their seats, Jane circled them, setting their IVs on the arms of their chair. There were always those dreamers who preferred to handle that part themselves. Roxy leaned over to take Calliope’s, kneeling next to her chair to help her rider with the IV. Jane noted idly that Rose handled her own needle, then did Dave’s for him while his gaze was averted.0

Jake had his in before anyone else, and laid with his chair already reclined, eyes shut like he was already asleep. He always had been a master of avoidance, Jane thought sourly.

The only dreamer who required Jane’s assistance today was Terezi, who was terrifyingly aware of her surroundings given her handicap, but still couldn’t locate her vein with her… sonar or smellovision or whatever it was.

Terezi, and AR.

John and Karkat were the ones to march AR into the room, bringing a hush with them. To his dubious credit, AR didn’t say anything and didn’t fight, allowed himself to be sat in the one chair that had been outfitted with straps.

Jane stepped close to secure the restraints around AR’s ankles, then his wrists, and one long strap across his forehead, keeping his head still.

His eyes followed her silently as she set up his IV. When she slipped up and met his gaze, AR smiled. Jane looked quickly away again.

“Well,” Roxy said, breaking the silence. “Now it’s a party. Twelve person dream team, huh?”

Stepping back and moving to stand over Terezi’s chair, John shook his head. “I don’t think I count.”

“Still, given the circumstances…” Roxy pointed two fingers at AR, at Dirk.

“Regardless,” Jane said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. Next to the MASIV sat a stool for her to sit on, and she climbed up, hooking a leg through the spokes and rubbing her hands over her thighs. “This is the largest team I’ve worked with.”

“Yeah, this is going to be a clusterfuck,” Karkat grumbled, dropping into his chair. Unlike half of the other members of the team who’d elected for pajamas, he was in his boots and fully clothed, his holster even at his side. Extractors tended to be a little more intense than other dreamers, though. Kicking up his boots and rolling up a sleeve for his IV, he asked, “Everyone clear on the plan? Any questions at all? No? Good.”

Too soon, it was time. Jane looked around, found everyone laid out and ready to go. Even with so many of them, it’d gone by so quickly. Benefits to working with the pros of the field.

Jane wished they’d taken their time.

“Alright,” she said softly, taking a moment to lock eyes with everyone, looking for last vestiges of nervousness and distress. Only Calliope seemed a bit anxious, but Roxy reached between their chairs to hold her hand.

Jane’s eyes fell on AR, and held.

“One hour, everyone,” she reminded them. “Good luck, and sweet dreams.”

Flicking one switch on the MASIV, the center button, the soft matte white of the infusion trigger, lit up. A pale green light shone under it, indicating it was primed and ready.

Jane set her thumb against it, and pressed down.

* * *

 

**> [S] Seer of Mind: Awaken.**

 

Terezi opened her eyes, and it was like she remembered.

There had been a small worry in the back of her head, that after going so long without, her brain wouldn’t remember how sight even worked. It’d been almost ten years since she was blinded, and she’d adapted accordingly. Rolling it all back to the days when she could actually see things might’ve been a shock. Maybe her mind wouldn’t know what to do with all the renewed stimuli. Maybe nothing would process. Maybe it’d be like waking up with a tremendous hangover.

But Terezi opened her eyes to the friendliest message, a long gold and emerald banner suspended in the air: _Welcome To Level One!_

Level One, the green room for the real deal. Harley on dream duty, and their surprise boon Calliope as the subject. It was an ingenious idea, if Terezi said so herself, using the cherub as the subject. Cherubs couldn’t populate dreams with projections. Between Calliope and Jade, they had the most perfect safe room possible.

 _Booooooooring_. Terezi rolled her eyes, and sat up.

Harley’s dream was similar to the dream lab back in reality, but souped up and given a Space dreamer’s flair. The white walls shimmered with pastel rainbows, colors rippling over every surface. The ceiling had also been swapped out for an enormous dome, transparent as glass and showing off the depths of space and starfields outside.

There was still a circle of chairs, nine this time, and a MASIV in the center. All but one of the chairs was occupied, as they had been outside.

“Don’t you dare fight me! I swear to god I will pop you like a grape, don’t think I won’t!”

Harley was shouting, and Terezi turned to look in that direction, feeling a little gleeful for being _able_ to turn and see things. Best totem ever.

There was a scuffle going on between Harley and their local shade. The Auto-Responder was either making a break for it or hadn’t woken in his assigned seat. Regardless, Harley was giving chase around the room, her hands flung out like she was some kind of FLARPer miming a spell. At her gesture, one of AR’s legs lifted from under him.

He was a fast, vicious shade, through. He caught the edge of a table, pulling himself back down. He braced one of his feet, and looked up at Harley with a smirk. His hand was going towards his hip, towards something.

Karkat jumped to his feet, tonfas already in hand.

But Dave was faster, moved like a pouncing jungle clawbeast. He vaulted right over his chair, high arc, maybe too high--

He landed on one foot, dropped low, momentum controlled and swung around. He drew his short sword as he turned, landing on his other foot, and rose up to stab the air right in front of AR’s face.

“Dude,” Dave said, voice level and a little chilly. “You’re being a shitty guest. S’very fucking rude, man.”

Harley reached out her hands, fingers clenching into fists, and lifting. AR went straight up, feet leaving the ground.

“Maybe I’m not a huge fan of this sort of welcome. It’s not exactly some Southern hospitality. No one’s offered me any sweet tea or nothing. Fucking barbaric,” AR said. His voice was very human, carried a similar weird tonality that was shared in Roxy and Dave’s voices, but it was just slightly distorted, like through an old speaker.

“So you wanna draw blade on the hostess? Shit, you’re never getting invited to the cotillion with manners like that.”

Karkat growled. “Enough fucking around! We have too much shit to do for this. The time dilation on this level is too fucking small.”

AR made a weak attempt at grabbing the table as Harley moved him through the air.

“Got ‘im, Jade?” Roxy asked.

“I do, yep! No problem! Benefits of being Space, right?” She stepped back, hands still outstretched and holding AR as she guided him back to the chairs.

Karkat sighed, walking to the MASIV and starting to uncoil the IVs. “Okay, everyone, let’s get going, we’re on a time table. Harley, get AR secured, and everyone get ready for Level Two.”

Before that, there was something _much_ more pressing, and Terezi shoved herself out of her chair, hard enough it skidded back a few inches. Two long steps, and Karkat was in her grasp, held tight in both her arms. He yelped in surprise, and Terezi grinned in his face. “Long time no _see_! Your red eyes came in, Nubs! They look delicious!”

Slowly, he smiled, his grouchy professional face slipping for a moment as he reached up one hand to pat her elbow. “Yeah, yeah. Good to see you too, Terezi. Now please sit the fuck down and stab yourself with the right needle.”

She left him with a wet, loud kiss on the cheek, but did as he asked.

After everything he’d done, he deserved that much.

 _Is that so?_   Yes. Quiet, you.

For all he was a silent, good little wriggler outside the dream, AR fought Jade every step of the way here, repeatedly trying to shake free from her hold. “This one’s going down in the history books for foolhardy life choices. This is ‘starting a land war in Asia’ levels of idiocy. For our troll guests who might not get the reference, that’s a ten out of ten on the unwise decisions scale,” AR said even as they struggled against restraints, speaking even and steady, no exertion belaid in their voice. “I am deeply entrenched in this shit, and you don’t have the crowbars and drills you need to unearth me.”

“Goddamn, I forgot how much this guy talks,” Dave muttered.

“Did you _really_ , bro?” AR said, smirking, and Dave looked like he’d been slapped.

Before _that_ could lead to more distractions, Harley pulled a gag over his mouth, yanking his head back against the chair as she secured. He rolled his eyes, but finally subsided and let Harley get him IVed up.

A hand touched Terezi’s elbow, and she turned to find Rose there, holding a PASIV in her grip. She offered a faint, calm smile. “Are you ready?”

“Hatched ready. Let’s get wired up.”

Rose gestured to a chair, and Terezi took her seat, holding out her arm. Riding was a deceptively simple set-up. While Rose would be dreaming into Kanaya’s level, Terezi would be dreaming into Rose as her subject.

One IV went into Terezi’s arm, and the other into Rose’s. After, Rose took the chair next to Terezi, humming softly. “Could someone…?”

“Of course, allow me,” Kanaya said, sliding out of her seat to fetch an IV for Rose’s other arm. Immediately, a pink flush appeared over Rose’s face, though her expression did not shift as she offered up her arm.

“Thank you, Kanaya.” She held out her arm like she was a highblood courting someone up the spectrum, all coquettish looks and wrist lazily offered. Because there wasn’t anything suspect about offering your bare wrist to a rainbow drinker, right? Terezi rolled her eyes.

Harley smiled, not an ounce of stress in her form as she pinned AR’s arm down and connected him. “All aboard the train for Level Two!” she said briskly. “Level Two train is leaving the station.”

“Rider teams ready?” Karkat asked.

“Yep!” Roxy waved. She and Calliope’s chairs were side by side, no gap left. It was one of the most saccharine pale displays she’d ever seen, outside all the _other_ pale grandstanding they’d done. Everything she’d heard about humans not understanding quadrants sounded more and more like hoofbeastshit.

“We’re all set,” Rose said.

“Let’s get this somnabullshit on the road,” Dave said.

Karkat nodded. “Hit it, Harley. Remember the soft kicks.”

Walking to the center, Harley raised her hands again. Every chair lifted gently off the ground, ready for the slow drops she’d be putting them through. “I’ve got this. Just hold up _your_ end of things, Karkat.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep your kids alive.” He laid back, and Terezi watched everyone else do the same.

“ _Man_ ,” Dave groaned, sounded queasy.

“What?” Jade asked.

“Dave’s adolescent crush on you was just made _very_ upsetting by an idle remark,” Rose explained.

“I am going to throw all the things you love in the dumpster, sis.”

“Cut the chatter,” Karkat snapped.

It didn’t seem fair, that she had to give this up already. But Terezi knew they were on a time table, and every moment of her reveling in the curious gift of sight was about ten minutes they could be using in Level Two.

Terezi put her head back against the chair, and shut her eyes.

* * *

 

**> Rose: Powder your nose.**

 

It had been a very long time since Rose had been to a formal event like this. The prestige of her family name was undeniable, but was limited to very specific and often technically criminal circles. Fugitives didn’t have many opportunities for fancy dress parties and the darknet wasn’t the best place for arranging meetings at fine establishments. It was empty warehouses and anonymous hotel rooms and back alleys, and not much else.

Rose took great care in outlining her eyes in scarlet, highlighted by her rich purple and grey eyeshadow. Red lipstick that was a kissing cousin away from black, and the lightest shimmer to her cheeks. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror of the bathroom suite, and took some pride in how well she looked here, framed in the mirror’s gold filigree frame.

 _So why do humans_ paint _their lips dark? Did you all spot the Alternian armada and just think they were, as the Empress would say, fresh to death?_

Ah. With all the suddenness of a light coming on, Rose understood. “Terezi,” she said coolly, straightening and finger combing her hair to lay in a way that looked presentable. “This is a curious feeling.”

_Try being the one riding. Nothing quite like being sealed in someone else’s head and unable to move or speak or even breathe._

Rose blinked, frowning. “That… does seem unpleasant. I’m sorry.”

_Luckily I’m the most badass dreamer you’re ever gonna meet. But lets hurry things along. Dream team’s gotta be around here somewhere. Let’s sniff them out._

Right. Rose stepped back, giving herself one last look in the mirror, admiring the flat purple sheath she’d dreamed herself into, accented with champagne gold lace curling across her shoulders and down her sides. Really, she needed to work in more dreams with formal settings. She fit in like a glove.

She picked up her clutch, feeling the heavy weight of her derringer inside, and left the room, imagining the click of her heels against the marble floors like gun casings hitting the stone, mayhem in the wake of her every step.

In her head, Terezi cackled, and Rose decided she would keep her personal commentary for this job to a minimum. Her rider was not the most appreciative audience.

**== >**

It took little time to find her team. Down a hallway, there was a door ajar, and Rose could _feel_ them inside. Terezi pointed it out to her, and she swept in to find a quiet lounge.

Kanaya looked up at her as she entered, and breathed a sigh of intense relief. “Well, thankfully one of us looks the part for this.”

Rose lifted an eyebrow. “You do yourself a disservice, Kanaya.”

Their dreamer had elected for a suit instead of a dress, a single button coat with flared hips, and no shirt underneath, an almost scandalous amount of grey skin on display. Her eyeliner was immaculate with a hooked line bending back under her left eye, echoing the hook in her horn. It was a striking display.

“This is my gala, if I were not appropriately dressed the entire dream would fall apart.” She lifted her hand, one long finger pointed. “Your hatchmate, apparently, has missed this important piece of information.”

Dave was standing by the drinks, hands in the pockets of his _very_ red suit jacket. With a luridly colored suit, the usual aviators on his nose, and what looked like _Converses_ tucked under the hem of his pants, he looked like the most exquisite douchebag Rose had ever seen outside the halls of the Ivy Leagues. “It’s formal as shit, I even got a pocket square. I don’t see what the problem is.”

Kanaya gestured helplessly, then rested her hand over her eyes. “I cannot take this.”

“Rose, tell her I look nice.”

Rose crossed her arms. “Dave.”

“Rox, _Roxy_ , back me up,” Dave said entreatingly.

Roxy was sprawled over a chaise chair, the glass beads of her straight-hemmed flapper twinkling like stars in the light. Rose wondered briefly where the hell she’d be hiding her rifle before remembering: Void dreamer. “David S. Lalonde, you are a babe in everything.”

“Knew Jordan Baker here would have my back,” he said, winking at her over the edge of his glasses.

“Are you not aware that we are in dangerous territory here?” Kanaya asked. “I have structured this dream to be in our favor as much as possible, but we are still dealing with a purportedly murderous security shade built by a _Heart dreamer_ , and all his projections. Remaining undetected is vital to our success here.”

“I hear you, but we also have to lure the son of a bitch out, right?” Dave spread his arms, waved to his attire. “Red flag for the fucking bull, right here.”

Terezi scoffed. _Coolkid here is asking for an express elevator down to Limbo._

Rose pursed her lips. “I’d take it as a kindness if you _didn’t_ make yourself a target for AR.”

The door opened, and their esteemed leader leaned in, hand on the doorframe. “There you-- wow, I’m so glad that the only person on this team looking for AR is Jake. I can't wait until the success of this mission falls onto the shoulders on one forger while you all imbibe on human soporifics and lay around.”

Kanaya pointed to Dave. “Look what I am dealing with, Karkat. I’m not letting him leave the room to walk right into AR’s grasp.”

Stepping inside, Karkat pulled the door shut behind him. He’d gone open collar like Dave, but in a decidedly more classy direction: black shirt, dark red waistcoat, and a jacket with short tails, just enough to hide whatever firearm Rose assumed he was carrying. He even had cufflinks, the silver marker of his astrological symbol, his _codename_ , as dramatic as it sounded.

 _There is no way Kanaya didn’t pick that out for him_. Rose smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Strider, can you stop being a piece of shit for one hour? Is that too much for you to bear?”

“I’m not--” Dave’s mouth flattened into a line. His eyes raked up and down Karkat once. “Okay, jesus, Kanaya, have at me.”

There was a click of Kanaya’s fingers, and Dave’s suit changed. The sleeves lengthened to stop showing off his bony wrists, the color desaturating to a much less ostentatious wine red, so dark it only revealed its hue closer to the light. The shoes changed to black dress shoes with ornate white stitching, and a black tie knotted around his collar. Even his glasses changed from the aviators to steel frames with dark red glass.

Really, Kanaya had left as much of Dave’s fingerprint on the outfit as her own. It was an impressive medley of Kanaya’s restraint with Dave’s desire to be a gaudy showpiece.

Karkat nodded. “Nice. So can we get to fucking work now?” He pointed to each of them in turn. “Roxy, you know where the high points are. I want you lurking up in the sniper’s nests and in the hallways. Stay out of the ballroom. Dave, Rose, check the rooms outside the ballroom. Be careful of the penrose shit going on in the stairwells. Jake’s forging in the employee restricted rooms and will send a flag up if he sees anything. Kanaya, we’re going out on the floor. We’re the only ones AR won’t know on sight.” His gaze swung back to Dave. “And keep a low profile for fuck’s sake.”

“Why are you looking at me when you say that, that’s some accusatory bullshit right there,” Dave said flatly.

“Dave,” Rose said softly.

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s get rollin’.”

* * *

**> Kanaya: Take the first dance.**

 

The dream was a deceptively simple design. Spirals upon spirals, winding into braids, from the open center of the ballroom, up the staircases to the balconies, outward to the hallways, and back down to the restricted areas that let out back into the ballroom again. Kanaya knew it like her own name, and led Karkat through the mahogany halls to one of the balconies.

The projections were all human. Kanaya hadn’t accounted for that, but of course a shade built from a human’s subconscious would populate a dream with humans.

Karkat’s claws dug in just slightly into Kanaya’s arm. “Human in the black suit near the door,” he whispered, bending his head to her ear.

She followed his gaze silently, taking in the sight, before nodding, and guiding Karkat through the double doors, into the gala proper.

“The red earpiece.” A projection standing guard was bad enough news, but it was outfitted in ways that pointed to this security suite, with a glowing red earpiece and matching glasses that shimmered threateningly even in the dim light.

Kanaya crossed to the edge of the balcony and looked out over the guests. There were plenty of projections already enjoying themselves, dancing and moving around in swirls of color and trim suits. From their vantage point, she could see at a distance more of them outfitted with the earpieces.

One passed them by, and as they did, it’s head turned, tracking for just a second before sliding away again.

“Well that’s fucking creepy,” Karkat muttered. “But we’re still unfamiliar enough. If we can keep Jake and the twins out of sight until the mark shows up… Are we _sure_ AR will show up?”

Kanaya let a small smirk cross her face. In her jacket pocket was an envelope that she removed and handed to him.

Opening it, a square piece of card stock and gold lettering slipped free. _Memorial Gala_ , it read, _in honor of famed roboticist and inventor, Dirk L. Strider._

Karkat huffed out a soft laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s going to get his attention all right.” He tucked the invitation into his jacket. “Now we wait.”

“And avoid lingering too long,” Kanaya added, watching another security projection glance at them. She took Karkat’s hand. “Mr. Vantas, please do me the pleasure of a dance.”

“ _Fine_ , yeah. I know better than to think I’m getting out of this without indulging your weird fixation with fancy dress events.” He worked his arm through the crook of hers and let himself be led down the stairs and into the crowds. The red carpet of the stairs ended, and they stepped down onto the ornate stone tiles of the ballroom floor, so smooth and polished, their reflections shone back up at them, the hanging crystal chandelier behind their heads.

There was tension in Karkat’s hands as Kanaya turned him, positioning them together. But he didn’t protest, and let her lead. With her short heels, they were nearly eye to eye, and Kanaya saw the way Karkat’s gaze flicked rapidly around the room.

She patted his hip. “Don’t be so obvious about it.”

“I’ve counted five on the floor already. I don’t fucking like this.” Despite the sour curl of his words, he obligingly refocused on her face. “We’ll be fine, but…”

“We have a Void dreamer, literally undetectable, and augmented by a Space dreamer,” Kanaya reminded him patiently. “Rose has Terezi riding along, and you shouldn’t underestimate the power of two Seers working in tandem. Jake is a certified forger.”

“And Dave,” Karkat finished, frowning.

That was a point she had to concede, reluctantly. “There might come a time when his idea of baiting our mark might be needed.”

“I know. But it’s not going to be him.”

Kanaya inclined her head, taking a chance to peer around them with a carefully lazy gaze. The fashion choices around them were notably limited in a way that bothered her. Perhaps Dirk Strider didn’t have much of a mind for these things. Her fingers itched to reach out and tweak the dream to her liking, but that would attract attention. Instead, she said in Karkat’s ear, “Perhaps I should draw him out. I could forge one of the family.”

Karkat frowned deeper. “Absolutely n-- wait. Have you even prepared forges of them? I didn’t think you could make a convincing performance with so little time.”

Kanaya nodded. It was true. “I could perhaps forge Rose. Not perfectly, but accurately enough to fool someone.”

“Someone, not subconscious security from hell. And, dammit, we need to talk about you courting a human for one of your quadrants.”

One narrow eyebrow lifted on Kanaya’s face as she leaned back to look into Karkat’s eyes. “Do we now?”

The _flushed_ look on Karkat’s would have been amusing in other circumstances. “ _Anyway_ , don’t forge any of them. If the security catches you with their face on, they’ll shoot you on sight, and we’re fucked all the way down to Limbo. No, just… keep your head down. I need Level Two to be you, Kanaya, I don’t…”

He trailed off, but the pinched look on his face was familiar. She reached up, quickly, and tapped her hand comfortingly against his cheek. “You don’t trust the others enough.”

“It’s not that. Or, maybe it is, I don’t fucking know. I didn’t even want to use Jade for Level One. I don’t _know_ these dreamers, and this entire job is a fucking gasoline soaked pile of tinder waiting for a match.”

And strung together in a week’s time. Kanaya felt the strain of it all too, but Karkat had always been more emotive about things. She could feel the strain in him.

After the Project, they’d been the only two to truly keep in touch, and Kanaya had been grateful. In the wake of so much pain, it would’ve been easy to return to Alternia and pretend it never happened. But there was always Karkat, pestering and calling her.

She felt warm at the thought, and used the cover of their dancing to run a hand through his hair, elbow against his shoulder. The way he instantly bent his head down to let her was gratifying. Even if his other quadrants were a depressing wreck, he was a fine moirail.

“You must admit,” she said, “that the combination of a cherub subject and a Witch of Space dreamer is a remarkable stroke of luck we’d be foolish to not employ.”

“No, I know. Terezi said the same thing. And…” he sighed. “We have to use them. There just isn’t enough of _us_ left.”

Another pap against his cheek. He mirrored the exact movement against her hip. “I’m here.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t. I need you for this to work. And besides, we can’t have _Terezi_ dream without endangering the entire mission.”

“And,” she countered gently, “you are our extractor. We need you here, in case the worst happens.”

He reluctantly nodded. “I really hate this plan, Kanaya.”

“I am aware.”

“I hate how that makes me feel better about it. I don’t want to feel better, I wanna be pissed off.” He took a step back, urging Kanaya with him. She following along, sweeping them through the dancers to the far end of the room. In the distance was one of the subtle service entrances. “I have to go do my job. We need more support and to find this asshole.”

She still held his hand in hers, aloft, and rubbed her thumb along the back of his knuckles. “I will remain in this area, and resist any proactive urges until you give word. Provided you take every caution and keep yourself safe as well.”

His mouth opened, brow furrowed, and she knew he was about to push back. Kanaya arched one eyebrow at him, and watched with satisfaction as he subsided. “Okay, okay. Turn me loose.”

She squeezed his hand once in warning before lifting, turning him around, and spinning him out in an elegant twirl. As her arm extended, she loosened her grip, and felt him slip away. In seconds, he vanished behind another set of dancers, and Kanaya lost track of him until she saw the service door open, then shut again.

There was a bereft moment in his wake, as she stepped outside the ring of dancers. It would be possible to dance with one of the projections, but as one of only two trolls at the gala, she would be drawing attention, and Kanaya was uncomfortably aware of all the red gazes that took notice of her.

As she walked towards one of the shortcuts to the balconies, a waiter paused at her side, a tray of champagne offered. “Miss Maryam,” they said, eyes locking with hers.

It took her a second, but she smiled. “Watch for the projections with the earpieces,” she told Jake softly.

Jake nodded. “Yes, I’ve noticed a few of those flashy buggers too.” He bit his lip, looking around. “I imagine it’s best we keep an eye on each other, I mean, forgetting our sneaky dame up in the rafters. Should you need assistance, just drop your glass to the floor and I’ll be over in a jiffy.”

She wasn’t certain what constituted a _jiffy_ , but human vernacular was always a difficult field to navigate. Especially Jake’s. “I will keep that in mind, but,” Kanaya lifted her lipstick, “I am not so defenseless.”

He looked at the tube, a puzzled moue crossing his face. “Uh. Right. Well.” He nodded, and stepped back, lifting his tray again and moving on to the next person, the consummate waiter.

Palming the tube, Kanaya made her way along the wall, head down and avoiding the prying eyes around her.

* * *

**> Roxy: Talk to the shade.**

 

Roxy was a _huge_ fan of Kanaya’s dream. That lady had _style_ , and while Roxy knew in her heart she was more a club crawler than a gala debutante, there was nothing better than a beaded dress that twinkled with every step and a rifle on her back. James Bond, eat your fucking heart out.

“Think I’d make a good James Bond, Callie?” Roxy asked. “I mean, provided the entire concept wasn’t so fucking ingrained in toxic machismo and all.”

 _I don’t think I’ve seen one of those,_ Calliope mused softly.

“Wow, your right to affect a British accent is _revoked_ until we remedy that, babe.” She was still chuckling about it when someone stepped into her path. Which wasn’t supposed to happen, since she was haunting one of the shortcuts up to the sniper nests, but-- “Oh, Vantas, hey.” Roxy looked Karkat over, noticing his waistcoat had changed, now a much more _vibrant_ hue, something pink that didn’t suit him at all. “You changed. I liked the other getup more than this… fuschia?”

 _Tyrian,_ Calliope offered.

Karkat sighed, looking down at himself briefly before shaking his head. “I’m a shade, actually. I’m here to ask you to keep Kanaya in your sights as much as you can. AR knows he’s dreaming, he’s got security fucking everywhere. We need to keep Kanaya awake or the whole job is scrapped. She and Jade are the dreamers we have no backups for.”

Huh. Roxy tilted her head, looking Pink Karkat up and down. “So. You’re a _helpful_ shade? Never heard that one before. Standard procedure-- procedure _you_ published-- is to shoot shades on sight.”

Pink Karkat glowered at her, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes flicked to the rifle on her back. “Yeah, well, it’s a Knight of Blood thing. So maybe don’t shoot me, because that’d fucking suck and we’d all be down one lookout besides.”

She considered it, just popping him right between the eyes. But… it felt like a waste of bullets, especially if this shade was giving advice instead of mayhem. “Karkat coulda explained this.”

“No shit,” Pink Karkat snapped, rolling his eyes heavily. “As much as he pretends to know what the fuck he’s doing, he never fucking does. It’s a glubbin' tragedy. I always feel like going back in time and smacking him.”

“Mm.” Roxy considered the possibilities, and felt a cheshire smile part her lips. “So… Ever made out with yourself in a dream?”

“Oh my _god_ , I’m leaving. Bye.” He turned away, burying his reddening face in his hand. “Just-- go be our eyes in the sky, and keep moving. Give a sign if you see AR, but _don’t_ engage until you get a signal.”

“Aye aye, capitán.” She saluted, and watched his scurry away. “By the way, I’m taking your non-answer as admission.”

She heard him groan as he retreated, but nothing else.

In her head, Calliope giggled. _Roxy, oh my good gracious. Why’d you think he’d done that? Kissed himself?_

“What, I would!” Roxy said, cackling. “That’s just… it’s the _sensible_ thing to do!”

* * *

**> Rose: Continue your search.**

 

Rose had to admit that the conceit of the dream was a clever one. Casting AR into a dream that revolved around honoring the legacy of Dirk was cruel and needling in the best way.

It was the details that sold it for her. Outside the ballroom, in the curved hallways, had a few scattered portraits of Dirk. Looking at oil paintings of her older brother, his hair beautifully highlighted by yellow light, was a strangely arresting sight. Though there were points that made it obvious that Kanaya had never properly met him, clear in his unfamiliar smile and the line of his spine; Dirk didn’t have posture like that, the slouch he was.

 _Can you think a little quieter?_ Terezi said. _About 80 percent of your thoughts revolve around your weird poly-pale feelings for your hatchmates and even I’m not that into that much voyeurism._

Having her relationship with her siblings compared to romance was a fascinating example of cultural differences… but Rose subsided, and kept moving.

“I imagine you’re more amenable to other types of romantic gossip,” Rose whispered. “Like, for example, caliginous relationships?”

_Rosey-posey, you’re lucky to have a nose given the way to shove it into people’s business. Surprised it’s not bit off._

“John might be a good deal older than I am, but he’s still family. I’d sternly advise you to treat him well.”

_Are you giving me the talk? The dirt removal tool talk? Seriously?_

“It’s something to do while I look around.”

Terezi laughed, the noise even harsher than usual, situated right in Rose’s head. _Focus, Rose. Look over on that table, there’s a book there. Reading in dreams is always a long shot, but you never know._

Rose always found reading in dreams to be extremely frustrating. She craved some real coherency in the text she came across. But it was not even a secondary detail, but a tertiary detail for most constructed dreams, since the subject didn’t _expect_ coherent reading while asleep. There was no point in the added effort.

However, this was a dream built by a Sylph of Space. Crafting a technicolor feast of experience was her _specialty_.

What Terezi had spotted was a guest book. As soon as she saw it, Rose smiled at the foresight. Kanaya was just endlessly clever, to add such a thing to the dreamscape.

 _Yaaawn_ , Terezi said. _Check it for Mr. Naughty Shade already._

Rose flipped through the pages, squinting down at the names written in the book. Many of them didn’t make sense, jumbles of letters that slipped from her memory the moment her eyes left them. Between those, however, she found a few familiar entries. Rose Lalonde. Dave Strider. Jake English. The entire team listed one after the next, with Calliope and Terezi conspicuously absent. As was Dirk, but sadly that was to be expected. He wouldn’t be accessible in this level of the dream.

On the next page, Auto-Responder appeared halfway down the list. She tapped her nail against the name. “As my brother would say, yahtzee.”

_Yeah, at least we have confirmation he’s… that he’s…_

As it drew Terezi’s attention, so it called Rose’s along too. Another solid name that sat on the opposite page, incongruous against the projected roster. It was written in florid, perfect cursive at a steep angle.

Vriska Serket.

 _That’s… No, we planned for this. That shouldn’t be possible_ , Terezi said, a faint tremor to her words. _That was the whole point of the riding, to give us a buffer between--_ She audibly stopped and took a deep breath. _We need to talk to Karkat. No! No, he’ll just… Kanaya. Go find Kanaya, right now._

Rose nodded, flipping the book shut and turning towards the ballroom. She walked as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

This was not part of the plan.

* * *

**> Dave: Smooze around and eat those little stuffed mushrooms.**

 

Dave didn’t take long to stake out a surveillance circuit that was conveniently right off the kitchens. 

Well, it made _sense_. Karkat didn’t want him in the ballroom in case the world fucking ended, and Rose had branched off in another direction. The fact that Dave was lurking in prime position to help himself to all the little hor d’oeuvres was purely coincidental.

They were great, though. They had everything that Dave loved about food; he didn’t have to cook it, they were all finger foods, and he got an _amazing_ startled look from the waiter he stole them from. As one of the tuxedo’ed waiters had swept out of the kitchen doors, Dave just took the tray of stuffed mushrooms from his hands. “Thanks,” he added, perfunctorily.

The waiter stopped, glared at him so hard that Dave frowned, wondering if he needed to do a fast rewind. Being a Knight of Time had its perks, and rolling the dream back a few seconds to undo a mistake had saved his ass on more than one job. But with this many dreamers, he could feel how tenuous the stability of the dream was. At best he could rewind… twice? If he was lucky? Before the whole thing collapsed.

Fortunately, the frowny face shimmered for just a moment into Jake’s. “I say, warn a fellow.”

Dave still didn’t really want to talk to Jake, so he popped a mushroom in his mouth, chewing and shrugging.

Jake let out a quiet sigh before shimmering back into his disguise and walking away, down the hall.

He was nearly out of sight when Karkat stepped through a door and caught Jake by the sleeve, apparently seeing right through his disguise. How the hell-- oh, he’d mentioned he could do that, could pick out real dreamers. Right.

Dave’s appetite, subconscious as it was, faded as he watched them talk, heads bowed together in conversation. They were too far away to hear what they were saying. Dave consider slinking closer, but could already _imagine_ the fucking tirade Karkat would go on. Keep separated, minimize damage if you’re caught, more pseudo-tactical bullshit, yeah yeah.

There was a snort behind him. “You’re mumbling again, Dave.”

He nearly dropped the damn platter, turning to see… Karkat, but not Karkat? He was leaning on the wall behind him, looked just like the real deal except for his vest, which had changed from red to a rich purple color.

Dave considered this, and shoved his platter onto a side table in the face of this way more interesting prospect. “Projection?”

“Friendly shade, don’t kill me, blah blah,” Purplekat said. “Listen, the security projections are already active and looking for the dreamer. If we assume AR’s plan is to dump our collective asses into Limbo, we have to be careful and get this over with fast.”

Dave raised his hand. “Plan Bait The Motherfucker finally up for debate?”

“It’s being considered, but we’re not letting you play bait, so calm the fuck down. You need to keep your head down, _reely_ down, because I found you in, like, five minutes, and that’s pathetic.”

There were a lot of shitty things Dave could say to that, but _fuck_ , he still didn’t want to have that talk with Karkat, let alone Purplekat. “Dunno if you realize, but I’ve done this before and--”

Purplekat’s attention shifted, eyes narrowing at something past Dave’s shoulder.

Dave turned, just in time to see someone who looked a fucking _lot_ like Dirk step out of a stairwell, lift his arm, and fire two bullets into Jake’s chest.

Before Jake’s body hit the ground, Dave made a decision, and that load of fuckery _stopped happening_.

It was the power of the semi-lucid dream, the nightmare of being chased when you were so fucking deep in the REM cycle you had no way of crawling out, even though you knew you were sleeping. When you took a left turn and found a dead end, and a little drowsy voice said, _I’d like a do-over_ , and it happened. Time didn’t so much rewind as much as shake it’s weary head and admit it was telling the story wrong, hang on a sec, where was I again?

Jake was on his feet, and Dave took a step forward. “Incoming, on your left!”

As the words left his mouth, the stairwell door was opening, but it was enough warning. Karkat had a fucking itchy trigger finger, and had a tranq fired into the neck of their would-be attacker before they cleared the doorway.

Dave took another step, only to be tugged back. Purplekat stalked forward. The other Karkat knelt, looking at the fallen maybe-Dirk with a deep frown marring his features.

“Shit,” Karkat said, standing. “Moving shit along now.” He snapped his fingers, pointing to Jake, looking at his doppleganger. “Take him.”

Purplekat nodded, seized Jake by the elbow, and dragged him away in a brisk walk.

The remaining Karkat had the red vest, so Dave assumed he was looking at Karkat Prime. Or whatever. Someday, Karkat was going to have to explain how all his bullshit worked. “Was that him?” Dave asked.

Karkat shook his head, reaching up to rub one of his eyes. For someone who was technically asleep, dude looked exhausted. “No. Just one of the security projections. But now AR definitely knows we’re here. We need to move, to… Shit, fucking shit. Fine, come on.”

Karkat’s hand gripped Dave’s wrist, palm sunlight warm against his skin. “What’s the plan, then?”

Before Karkat could reply, there was a _sound_ , sudden and jarring. For a delirious second, it seemed like a bunch of robotic cicadas making a fucking racket, but it resolved itself into something that made sense: clocks. Somewhere, a dozen clocks were ticking, unsynched and discordant and metal, and just as Dave realized what the fuck was happening, a chorus of _bongs_ rang out, like every nightmare he’d ever had about fucking grandfather clocks, jesus christ.

The shock coursed through him, so sharp and sudden that for a beat, Dave felt… unmoored, drifting, what the _fuck_ \--

“Dave!” Karkat’s hands were on his face, holding him steady. The presumptuous fuck that he was, he nudged Dave’s glasses up to stare into his eyes. “Stay here, Dave, stick with me!”

Shaking slightly, Dave pushed Karkat’s hands away. “I’m fine. Just… caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, and funny how this fucker timed that just right to almost soft kick you out. Gonna go out on a horizontal tree branch and say you may have pissed him off,” Karkat said, furious and tense. “Come on, we have to _go_.”

“Right. Yeah, lead the fucking way, damn,” Dave breathed. And if he let Karkat hold his wrist again, well. It was only for a moment.

* * *

 

**> Rose: Talk to the shade.**

 

It took an embarrassing amount of time to make it to the ballroom. Rose would never admit it, but the way Terezi had gone quiet and unhappy in her brain was making her nervous. This hadn’t even been mentioned as a possibility in their planning meetings. It was a curious thing to wonder about; did the trolls neglect to mention it because they honestly believed it couldn’t happen, or out of shame or fear?

Regardless, locating the correct hallway and set of stairs that led up to the balcony took some doing, as Rose spontaneously forgot the layout of the dream she’d helped design. Thankfully, Terezi didn’t seem to notice amid her silent contemplation.

Out on the balcony, Rose leaned heavily on the stone railing, eyes scanning the crowds. She could feel her heart beating, or the simulacrum thereof. It was possible that Kanaya’s dreaming was simply _that_ real…

She took a moment to pat her totem, the long line of it in the hidden pocket of her dress. It was fine.

Someone joined her at the railing, stepping up just next to her hip, close enough to brush against her bare arm.

 _Well, shit_.

Rose looked up to Vriska Serket offering her a flute of champagne. Rose had never seen her, since most of the information about the trolls stayed classified even after the Project, but knew her in her bones, like an old friend come to life. She was taller than Rose, enough to force her to tilt her head back to meet her gaze. Wild hair hung around her shoulders, slipping loose from a low ponytail. She had an _eyepatch_ of all things, ornate with silver spider web stitching. It gave her the air of salt and dark water, emphasized by her navy suit jacket, hanging asymmetric around her, with one epaulette strung with silver chains that connected to her metal arm. She looked like a typhoon with a slasher grin.

Rose took the champagne and swallowed it all, setting the glass down heavily on the bannister and looking out again, hoping to spot _any_ familiar faces.

Below, she could see Jake, out of his disguise. He was being dragged right through the ballroom floor by Karkat. Around them, cutting through the dancers, were projections with glowing red eyes, closing in on them. Rose started to turn, to go to them, only for Vriska’s sharp clawed grip to catch her arm.

Like she wasn’t standing there holding Rose with four sharp points against the soft skin, she clucked her tongue, said, “What a _mess_ this is turning into. You know, I’m a big fan of this human thing you call Occam’s Razor. All these layers on layers and riders and plans you have, _ugh_. Tedious. Just cut to the chase, if you ask me.”

Rose fought to not grind her teeth together. She was so tempted to just _shoot_ the shade, but it was hard with so many glowing eyes appearing around the room. “I didn’t,” Rose replied curtly. “No one in their right mind would ask you anything, Serket.”

If anything, the disdain dripping from Rose’s voice seemed to delight her. “Oh, do I have a _reputation_? Does it proceed me?”

“In a sense,” Rose admitted. “The entire dreamshare industry is built around avoiding your mistakes.”

Vriska threw her head back, mane of hair shifting like black oil as she laughed. “Ha ha, oh _Lalonde_ , they’re only mistakes if you _regret_ them!”

 _This is not good, and you need to stop humoring her_ , Terezi whispered. _Find Kanaya._

Rose felt her lip curl in frustration. “Karkat is _right there,_ why does it have to be Kanaya?”

With a sharp gasp, Vriska leaned in close, staring into Rose’s eyes haltingly. “Who’s in there?” She inched even closer, like she could peer right into Rose’s brain. “Is that _Terezi_?”

The rich excitement in her voice was unsettling, and Rose didn’t need to hear Terezi’s shocked gasp to know this was going even further off the rails. She yanked her arm out of Vriska’s grip, wincing at the sting of her claws, and grabbed the hem of her dress, descending the stairs as quickly as she could.

* * *

 

**> Karkat: Keep the wheels on this fucking runaway train.**

 

Letting go of Dave was difficult. Karkat could feel the quickened drum of his pulse, and knew Dave would be pissed at him for wanting to stick close to him, _and yet_ didn’t want to relinquish his hold. At least if he dragged Dave along behind him, he was close by. Then Karkat could _do_ something.

The choice was taken out of his hands as the lights dimmed, and a voice over the speakers announced that Mr. Dirk Strider would be ascending the stage shortly to deliver his eulogy. _God_ , but this supershade asshole was _annoying_.

“Karkat,” Dave breathed.

“It’s not him. I’d know if it was. But…” Karkat squinted around the ballroom, at the balcony. “Shit, I got to make sure Roxy doesn’t blow her position. Look, _stay here_ , keep… keep in sight so she can at least cover you. And be ready to do your time thing if someone else runs into trouble.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dave said, nodding. He settled back against the wall, one hand tucking into his jacket, where his beretta presumably was. “Hurry the fuck up.”

Karkat wanted to say something, like _be careful_ or _I’ll be right back_ , but could already tell Dave would bristle, the prissy meowbeast that he was.

Instead, he just turned away and stepped into the crowd, still scanning for any sign of anyone as his eyes adjusted to the light.

There was no way he’d find everyone in time with AR pushing things along. With a whisper of willpower, Karkat dipped deep down into the liquid well in his-- in what he’d only ever been able to think of as his soul, as fucking cliche and shitty as it was. He felt viscous warmth on his fingertips and tangy heat in his mouth, and if he looked at his hands, he’d see the phantom image of mustard brown and rust drenching his skin.

He didn’t look. He just directed it. _Find Roxy. Find Rose. Find Jake. Keep them calm. Keep them safe._

The sensation sluiced from his hands, and out of the corners of his eyes he saw his doubles darting off in opposite directions.

Karkat himself found who he was looking for, and caught up to Kanaya, who was lurking around the stage, her lipstick tube ready in hand.

“Kanaya, don’t do it,” he said in a rush. “It’s a ploy, he’s trying to draw us out just like we’ve been trying to draw him out. Just keep watch.”

The worry on her face flattened and slid off with all the casualness of a discarded coat. “Of course. I couldn’t be sure, but I suspected…” She looked up, and Karkat saw something like real fear flash in her eyes. Her hand grabbed his, clenched. “Oh _shit_.”

He spun, following her gaze, and felt his stomach twist as the first real panic he’d felt in _years_ hit him. “Is that Rose dancing with--” _Shit, fuck, no no no._ Karkat shook himself. “Kick her. Kanaya, _go_ , do it _now_ ,” he ordered, and tore through the crowd.

* * *

**> [S] Seer of Light: Dance.**

Rose managed to reach the ballroom floor and catch just a glimpse of orange horns before the lights went low. She was spun, someone’s hands hard on her shoulders, and if Vriska did not steady her, she would have fallen. As it was, she was pulled close, a strong arm around her waist. Vriska stepped forward, and Rose had to step back in turn, and then they were dancing.

“Just a moment,” Vriska purred into her ear. “Before you scurry off to hide under Kanaya and Karkat’s skirts, you should _hear me out_.”

Rose grit her teeth and turned her head, trying to look through the crowd and catch someone’s eyes. Terezi was still shocked silent, it seemed, and Rose couldn’t focus long enough to find anyone as she was whisked around. “I don’t think that’s wise, honestly.”

“You’re going to hear me out,” Vriska said, “because you’re _practical_ , Rose Lalonde. And so am I! Really, we’d get on like a hive on fire under different circumstances.”

“Like if you had survived your own mad schemes?”

She’d hoped to rattle Vriska, but she just drew her head back to stare into Rose’s eyes again. Her remaining eye was a crisp, clear blue, like the ocean from the air, and drowning. “This job here is to save your _family_ , and you’re leaving it up to _Vantas_ to call the shots?” She tsked, giving Rose a look rich in both sympathy and condescension. “You’re so much better than him, a far better leader. Believe me, I’d know.”

It was almost insulting, that Vriska thought she was so susceptible to simple flattery. “We need him. He has experience we don’t, and I’m not ashamed of that.”

She let out a laugh like a thunder clap. “Why? That whole _extracted from Limbo_ line on his CV? Tell me, Lalonde, how many of his team did he _lose_ that day?” She sighed. “ _Honestly_.”

God, she was irritating, but her grip on Rose was firm as iron. “And you have a better plan, I’m certain? Your own brilliant ideas for how to do this?”

“ _Yeah_ , obviously. Level One is stable, there’s an escape route right there for you. The Limbo drop isn’t even that big a deal. I say, shoot Kanaya, drop everyone into Limbo, then recover them at your leisure.” She shifted her hold on Rose, and Rose was forced to grab hold of her shoulders as she was dipped deeply, Vriska holding her precariously aloft. She leaned down to whisper, “And I mean, if a few of them get lost… Wasn’t it Jake’s fault you lost Dirk in the first place?”

 _It was_ , Rose thought vividly, then flushed brightly as she strangled that thought. It was not allowed, especially not with this devil crooning in her ear. Vriska grinned, though, like she read the awful thought right out of Rose’s eyes, and straightened, returning Rose’s feet to solid ground.

Before they could take another step, Kanaya appeared, shouldered her way bodily between them and took hold of Rose’s hands. “Please allow me to cut in,” she said genially, pushing Rose harshly backward, away from Vriska.

Past Kanaya’s shoulder, Rose saw Karkat close in on Vriska from behind. There was no patience, his hand grabbing her hair and yanking her. She let out a pained yowl that transformed into a _gleeful_ , wordless sound as she caught sight of him. She fisted a hand in his collar just as he grabbed her arms.

The silence in Rose’s head ended with a _scream_.

 _No, no NO NO. Don’t let him-- you can’t! Rose, stop him!_ Terezi’s voice boomed, loud enough to _hurt_ , making Rose stagger from the force of it. _He’s going to kill her again, **STOP HIM!**_

* * *

**> Karkat: Handle Vriska.**

 

He was bleeding already. He could feel it under his jacket as he bodily hauled Vriska away, her claws fucking sharp like she’d spent the last eight fucking years sharpening them just for this moment. He hissed as they dug in, but it was another anchor and she wasn’t getting away from him, hell or high fucking water.

He kicked in the side door, still forcing her along as she cackled, the same manic energy he remembered from before. As soon as they cleared the doorway, she stopped resisting and _shoved_ , knocking him across the hall and into the opposite wall, hard enough his head slammed against it.

For his trouble, he had the personification of his disastrous past mistakes pressing against his chest, pinning him enough it was hard to breathe. “Was this the plan? Take me into a side room, away from prying eyes?” She sounded as breathless as him, and overjoyed. “I don’t hate you that way.”

He grit his teeth, sucked in a gasp of air. “Shut the fuck up, and stay away from them. This isn’t _about you_. You had your fucking chance and you blew it, you blew it away with a rocket launcher to the thinkpan, you unhinged murder-happy _idiot_.”

She grinned, sharp teeth all on display in a blatant bit of predator posturing. “So it’s all up to you now, huh? I had a walk through Lalonde’s head. _World’s best extractor_.” She let out a bark of a laugh, jerked him away from the wall just enough to slam him back into it again. He was stronger, he knew, but Vriska was long and built of violent leverage.

His gun. It was in her fucking hand. The silenced muzzle dragged almost tenderly down the line of his throat. “You,” she said softly, “would be _nothing_ without me, Cancer. Everything that makes you great came from _me,_ built on my _bones_.” She flicked off the safety. “Say _thank you, Vriska._ ”

Bang. Karkat shook with the shock of the noise, loud in his ears.

Vriska fell, hit the ground, and faded into nothing, leaving his tranq gun to clatter to the ground.

Karkat sagged back against the wall and rolled his head to the side gingerly.

Down the hall, he caught Roxy lifting her eyes up from her rifle scope. She lowered it, letting it rest in the grasp of one arm so she could give him a thumbs up.

Exhaling hard, Karkat nodded to her, giving her a thumbs up in return. He wanted desperately to slide down the wall and sit there with his head in his hands, pondering the shade of Vriska fucking Serket and how the fuck it had even gotten in.

But this wasn’t the time for a post-mortem. There was shit to do, and he didn’t have the fucking time.

Grabbing his gun, he hurried back into the ballroom.

* * *

 

**> [S] Knight of Time: Countdown.**

 

Dave had long since lost the fucking plot.

He liked to think he was a great pointman, mind like a steel trap covered in super glue and magnetized and shit, just keeping track of _everything_ , man, but it was fucking dark and he couldn’t fucking see, and his hands shook every time he started to reach for his glasses. Jake had forged off somewhere, Roxy was _who fucking knew where_ , there were angry-eyed motherfuckers all around, and _something_ had gone down with Kanaya, Karkat, and whoever that third troll was.

Dave had one hand curled around his beretta as he stalked around the outside of the ballroom, waiting for _something_. What was even the plan anymore? He had no fucking idea.

To his revoltingly intense and genuine relief, Karkat barrelled back out the door he’d disappeared into. Dave only managed a half step towards him before Karkat was beelining right at him.

“C’mere,” Karkat said, his hand on Dave’s elbow. They stepped out from the official wallflower ring, into the dancers. Karkat put his hand on Dave’s hip, held his hand, and coaxed them sideways, following the counterclockwise movement of the room.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Dave hissed.

“I’ll explain later, we’re still in crisis mode here. Hey.” He squeezed Dave’s hand. “I need a countdown to the next kick. Out loud.”

Dave sucked in a breath, and held it. Right. Okay. It took some focus, but with Karkat leading, he didn’t need to pay attention to where they were going, just following Karkat around the floor.

There was a kick on its way, half a minute off. Dave held it in his mind’s eye, the seconds ticking, lining up to his mental metronome. As he found the rhythm, something in his chest settled the fuck down. His eyes went half lidded as he started to count. “Twenty-six. Twenty-five. Twenty-four.”

A Time dreamer had plenty of tricks in their magic tool box. Counting aloud, and having every dreamer hear it, was an immensely useful perk when they needed to synch shit up.

Eventually, he and Karkat ran into Kanaya and Rose, for just a moment, arms nearly brushing as they passed each other, moving opposite ways. Kanaya looked to Karkat, who nodded, and then they all spun away from each other again.

A shiver rolled up Dave’s spine. He turned his head, trying to track his sister as she was drawn around the room. Dave kept counting, wondering what the hell the plan was here.

Karkat’s hand shifted, sliding from Dave’s hip to the small of his back. “Stay here. Keep going.”

“Seven. Six. Five.”

Kanaya spun Rose elegantly into the center of the ballroom. Rose looked happy, smiling as they danced with a lot more flair than the rest of the floor. It was less prom night and more fitting for the gala, their elbows lifted, Kanaya’s hand light under Rose’s arm, all cycling motion. Where the hell Rose learned ballroom dance, Dave had no goddamn idea.

Kanaya caught Rose’s ankle with her foot, sending her down, and catching her with sure hands. Rose’s hand shifted quickly to the shoulders of Kanaya’s jacket, and she was dipped low, low, low…

The kiss Kanaya planted on her was _not_ rated for young audiences, a full press of their mouths together, parting Rose’s lips with hers and, _whoa_ , that was way more than Dave needed to see of his sister macking on someone, jesus.

 _Two. One._ In the middle of the kiss, Kanaya just dropped her, let Rose go so she fell right to the ground, the impact solid with a _thump._ Her head snapped against the stone floor, loud enough Dave felt it in his goddamn teeth and in the back of his head like a sympathetic pain.

And Rose didn’t open her eyes again.

Karkat tried to strongarm Dave away before Dave even realized he was struggling. “What the fuck,” he said, softly at first and then louder as realization set in. “What the _fuck_ did you do to my sister, where is she? Karkat, what the _fuck_!”

He was jerked away, Karkat growling with the strain of holding Dave. What the _fuck._ “She and Terezi were compromised, don’t--” He dug his heels in, and the projections around them were starting to turn to Dave, their eyes staring unblinking. “Don’t make a fucking scene, we’re not safe here!”

All Dave knew was that his sister was out of the fucking dream and he wasn’t, _oh fucking shit_. “How, compromised _how_?” Maybe he could get close and rewind it, but would that work if she was already kicked? He-- he didn’t think so, but it was worth a shot, he couldn’t do this without her, no no no.

Dave made another game attempt to reach her, ignoring the sentinel eyes watching him as he shook loose from Karkat, just one hand gripping his jacket sleeve, but he could shrug that _off_.

He didn’t make it a full staggering step before he heard a click, and watched the Auto-Responder appear, glowing red eyes staring right at him. The end of the barrel of his gun staring right at him too, a foot from his head.

“Sup, bro,” he said. “Found you.”

It was Dirk’s face, but not, no pointy lenses to shield AR’s gaze, mechanical and unnatural set into an otherwise human face. He always looked _wrong_ , like he never managed to figure out how to puppet a human body correctly.

The triumphant smirk on his face had none of Dirk’s reserve and subtlety, just his teeth.

“ _ROGUE!_ ” Karkat yelled, and shoved Dave hard, out of AR’s aim.

He stumbled, tried to catch himself, only to land awkwardly on the floor, cracking his knee. “Ow, fuck,” Dave muttered, wincing. Still, he knew how this worked, let himself fall and roll onto his back, then swept a leg back to rise back up. Years of sparring with Dirk had controlled falls ingrained into his muscles, and he was back to his feet in a flash, already holding his breath and waiting to rewind this shit.

Karkat slammed a tonfa into the side of AR’s skull with a resounding _whack_ , making him stagger. The smooth wood spun in his hand, stretched out from his palm, and he swung it into AR’s knee.

Dave reached for his gun, but Karkat was already retreating. “Go, go, go, shit, go.” He grabbed Dave’s arm, and pulled him along.

* * *

 

**> Roxy: Clothesline.**

 

_Roxy, I just heard--_

“I heard it too. I think _Jade_ heard. Karkitten’s got lungs, damn.” Roxy jogged through the restricted hallways, dodging through people, ducking past more than a few of the security projections. Oh, she fucking itched to take a potshot at one of them, but it’d blow her cover.

She hauled herself along her path, and the empty distance seemed to vanish. As soon as she reached one of the ground level doors, she wrenched it open, set her shoulder against it so she could grab her rifle. She planned to just fire from there, but there were so many projections--

Karkat and Dave were coming right for her, fast.

“Better idea,” she whispered, and stepped back, letting the door slide shut.

Karkat and Dave burst through it, hard enough the door banged back against the wall.

Roxy flipped her grip on the rifle, holding the barrel and the handguard in her hands, and swung it as the boys cleared it.

The body of the gun connected hard enough the impact hurt, but she’d been ready, and held steady. She caught AR right in his fucking gut, and the motherfucker dropped with force. One hand flung out to try and catch him, but too little too late.

Karkat and Dave bounced off the wall, and it was adorable, how Karkat instantly put his body between Dave and AR, a hand folded securely around Dave’s bicep.

 _Aw,_ Calliope sighed. _I mean-- is that awkward? Should I not, since its your brother? Whoops._

Roxy could’ve told Calliope that no, she totally saw it too, bless her little brother from his downy hair to his cotton socks. She was distracted as a random projection morphed into Jake. He dropped to the ground, his knee against AR’s back, and handcuffs in his hand. “Well then!” he chirped, locking the bracelets around AR’s wrists. “Thank god for that, this dream was edging closer and closer to nightmare territory!”

Dave shrugged off Karkat’s hand, quickly stepping out of range. Ha. Fooling no one there. “Are you just _everywhere_ , jesus fuck.”

Jake beamed sunnily. “Well, that is sort of the idea, chaps. And given how the wheels were flying off this job--”

Karkat let out the best purry growl Roxy had ever _heard_. “Yeah, well, we didn’t count for Vriska fucking Serket showing her face. _Fucking_ …” He dragged a hand through his hair.

Dave turned his head to look at him, frowning deeply. “You kicked Rose.”

Roxy rocked back onto her heels, eyebrows lifting. “He _what_?”

“It was _necessary_ , okay?” Karkat snapped. “I don’t know how it fucking happened, but the Vriska shade living in Terezi’s head clawed her way into the dream. It was bad enough to have Vriska _here_ , in Kanaya’s dream, but if she infiltrated Level Three, we’d all be _gloriously and astoundingly_ fucked.” He met Roxy’s eyes. “Rose is out, you’re our new dreamer, and we need to get to the safe room _now_.”

Jake nodded and hauled AR up. “I can’t imagine the projections are going to be thrilled we’re kidnapping their dreamer.”

“Yeah,” Roxy said on a sigh. “Okay, yeah, you guys get going, I’ll grab Kanaya and meet you down there.”

* * *

**> Rose: Figure out what just happened.**

 

After the atmospheric, soft chandelier lights of the ballroom, waking up in Jade’s dream with its bright prism white walls was a shock. Rose opened her eyes, then shut them again, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyelids with a sigh that came out of her mouth a pained groan.

Under her, the chair settled gently on the ground. “Oh, wow, okay! Hello, you two are back early!” Jade said.

 _Two_. Rose rolled her head to look to her left.

Terezi sat up, yanking the IV out of her arm carelessly, her face downturned. The habitual sharp set of her shoulders slumped as she leaned forward on her knees, face half hidden in one hand.

She didn’t say anything. Just sat there, still but for the slight tremor in her arms.

“I don’t want to pry but…” Jade looked between them. “What _happened_?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Rose said slowly. She didn’t want to-- she’d never seen Terezi Pyrope look _fragile_ before, but at the moment she did, and Rose worried about saying the wrong thing and hurting her further. “Somehow, a shade got into the dream.”

Jade sucked in a gasp. “Oh no. Did it hurt you guys?”

“Hm, no, but it could have. I believe Karkat made a decision to cut us from the plan to minimize risk.”

Terezi let out a crackly laugh. “It was Vriska. Every time I sleep, it’s always Vriska.”

“ _Vriska?_ ” Jade turned wide, shocked eyes on Rose.

She nodded. “We’re okay.” Or close enough to it. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken for Terezi. There was clearly a lot of, well, emotions happening with her rider. Most days, Rose would say herself fascinated with the mental state of others and the effects that dreamsharing had on people psychologically. It was a topic she read about voraciously, and when the entire family entered the business, it was a common dinner topic between her and Dirk. He had a unique perspective on it, with his class and use of it, and very quietly, Rose thought that when she retired from active dreamsharing work, she might publish a few papers on the subject, like John had published about Limbo and dream layering.

Now, the state Terezi was in, the way the return of Vriska had cracked her confident facade to show something vulnerable and bleeding underneath, made Rose to run and hide. And they were sitting within a _small_ dream, despite the vastness of space outside the windows.

Standing and brushing imaginary dust from her skirt, Rose circled around the dreamers, ducking through the IV lines and finding her brother’s chair. Under Jade’s watch, it had drifted back up a few feet, ready for the next soft drop.

Dave’s face was never peaceful when he was dreaming. Or, when he was _asleep_ , certainly; she’d shared hotel rooms and beds with him enough to know the slack jawed expression of rest on his face. But here, there was tension, his eyebrows twitching, his lips curved unhappily. She let out a faint _tsk_ and brushed some of the hair from his eyes.

It wasn’t often they weren’t together in the dream. Or, as Rose considered that, she realized that wasn’t accurate. They had _always_ been together in the dream, at least in every job they worked together. This was the first time they’d been separated. Dave had always preferred to be kicked before her, _by_ her if possible. How odd.

Jade walked to her side, swayed companionably into Rose’s hip. “Are you alright?”

Rose nodded. “Hm, yes. And regardless, I have to be. As much as I might like to wake up, I’m too heavily sedated for that.” Her eyes darted to the side, back to Terezi. “Terezi, though…”

Jade sighed. “I don’t want to insult her by asking. She’s an adult, she’ll let me know.” She bumped into Rose’s shoulder again. “Are you _sure_ it’s okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Rose demurred. Remembering, she smiled. “Kanaya kissed me.”

“She… huh. Good? Congratulations?” Jade seemed to be at a loss. To be fair, it was something of a conversational curveball.

“Mm.” Rose watched Dave’s chest move slowly with each breath. “Now it’s up to them.”

* * *

 

**> Dave: Stick to the plan.**

 

The legends were true, and Kanaya Maryam had a fucking _chainsaw_.

Dave was a fan. It was something incredible, to witness a tall, exceptionally hot troll woman in a fancy suit cutting through security projections like a hot knife through butter. She lead their little troupe through the dream, as she was the only one who knew _where_ the saferoom was. Dave brought up the rear, kept any sneakier customers off their back.

Subterfuge was over, and it was full twitch shooter bullshit in here. The projection population of the dream was _sharply_ dropping, it was like school attendance after finals week.

Roxy was grinning, helping guard Kanaya and Jake, her pistol in hand, firing shot after shot without pause. “Aw, I think they’re thinning out.”

“Your glee over this is fucking disturbing,” Karkat said.

“I spent this _whole level_ with my finger off the trigger, gimme some credit for restraint.”

“No. No, don’t think I will.”

“Aw,” Roxy whined, putting a hole through the forehead of another glowy eyed projection.

The saferoom was a trick to reach, with Kanaya taking one of the stairs halfway up, then reversing, stepping back down onto a new floor that hadn’t been there before.

Karkat, with the aplomb of someone who was one tac vest and military alphabet designation away from a very convincing SWAT drag, checked the room first, before putting his back to the door and waving everyone in.

As Dave got close, Karkat gave him this _look_ , all wide red eyes and naked concern. “Hey,” he said, practically a whisper, which was _weird_ out of Karkat’s shout hole, honestly. “Are you good?”

Dave met his eyes, because he sure as fuck wasn’t afraid. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, accusation heavy in his drawl. “Tryin’ to say something, Vantas?”

To his credit and Dave’s dismay Karkat didn’t take the bait or back down like he hoped. “I’m _saying_ that a lot of things this asshole has been pulling are dirty tricks and you seemed pretty fucking not okay fifteen minutes ago.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Dave snapped. “Just because you-- I’ve got this. I don’t see you pulling Rox aside to ask about her feelings on this, or Jake.”

“Because I don’t _know_ them like I--”

“Fuck off.” He pushed past Karkat, into the saferoom.

It was apparently situated under the ballroom. Distantly, Dave could hear the music from outside, more vibration than genuine melody through the stone and wood above them. There was a table with a MASIV surrounded by six chairs.

Not that they needed six anymore.

Kanaya and Jake secured AR to his chair while Roxy kept his head in her sights. Despite basically looking her twin down scope, she seemed calm. Calmer than Dave would be.

It was possible he wasn’t actually _fine._ But the fact Karkat knew that wasn’t fucking fair and a petty part of Dave hated him for it.

Still, he sat heavily on one of the chairs and reached into his pocket, pulling out a watch. It was attached to him on a long silver chain and was just big enough to be a comforting weight in his palm.

He pressed the button at the top with his thumb, and the cover released on its spring, flipped open and rested against his wrist.

Tucked into the concave round space, a little awkwardly squeezed in, was a cut out of a picture of Rose, crinkled at the edges and creased from the times it’d slipped free and he’d had to push it back into place.

Taking a breath, Dave nodded, and flipped the watch shut again. He could do this. It was just one more level, and Rose was waiting up with Jade. He could _handle_ this shit.

It was  _just a dream._

And besides, they couldn’t afford to lose another member of the team before the big showdown. It was practically _asking_ for a TPK.

For the third time that day, everyone took their seats. This time, Dave had to put his own IV in, which made something manic and childish seize him by the neck, but he shook it off. The sooner he did this, the sooner they’d have Dirk back and the sooner he’d see Rose again.

“All right,” Karkat said when everyone was settled. “Lalonde, are you ready for this?”

Roxy sat up and flexed her arms, showy, but careful of the IV in the crook of her arm. “I _got_ this, Karkat, don’t you fret.”

“You better. Kanaya?”

She took her seat next to the MASIV and held out her hands. With some effort and less smoothness than Jade has shown, the chairs all lifted a few inches into the air. “I am ready.”

“Good. No bullshit, everyone. Find Dirk and secure him. Find _that_ piece of triggerhappy work,” he pointed to AR, “and Limbo him. Ride the kick back out. Go get wrecked on human soporifics and never so much _look_ at a bottle of somnacin again.”

Roxy smiled. “Callie says good luck, everyone.”

Kanaya nodded in agreement. “And I believe the habitual send off here is ‘sweet dreams.’”

She flipped the switch on the MASIV, and pressed her thumb on the infusion trigger.

Dave shut his eyes, and dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /wipes sweat from brow. lemme know if you liked all that chaotic jam. next chapter: level three.


	7. hey orpheus, don't turn around too soon

**> Karkat: Follow the red string.**

 

Karkat walked through the labyrinth in silence, listening.

Four heartbeats answered him. Which meant their scheme had worked. Dirk was in here, somewhere.

The dreamscape had Roxy’s particular touch all over it. When Terezi had mentioned that level three would be a labyrinth, he pictured the human hedge mazes, or the stone walls of Alternian prisons, where trolls were let loose to scramble around looking for food caches and weapons to aid their survival.

Instead, he was in darkness. The walls around him were ink black, as if they absorbed all the light around them, creating a weird optical illusion and making it difficult to even judge how far away they were. As he walked, he reached out and trailed the tips of his claws over the walls. The edges and corners were only detectable from the light behind them; just visible over top the walls was an ambient neon glow, presumably the center of the labyrinth, where he needed to go.

At least the path was clear. The floor beneath his feet was a phosphorous white, humming and glowing pale as it wound along its path. It was weird, to see the floor beneath him and little else, like if he strayed or miss-stepped, he’d fall into void.

Karkat hated labyrinths. They were a common element of dreamsharing, had been even back in his day, when the Project had first started with _constructed_ dreams. But at least a maze had branching paths and multiple routes. With a labyrinth, all he could do was hope he was headed in the right direction.

One heartbeat was getting closer, and Karkat’s pace quickened as he recognized it. It still took longer to reach thanks to the way the path looped back on itself like that irritating slitherbeast game.

After enough navigating the sharp turns and bends in the path, he found Dave.

More specifically, he found Dave sitting with his back against the wall like it was the only thing holding him upright, his knees folded to his chest. In one hand was his pocketwatch, his grip on it so tight, it shook slightly from the strain. In the other, he held his gun, tapping it lengthwise against his temple, his finger luckily off the trigger.

His face was against his knees, his glasses pushed up into his hair.

Karkat stopped, stared. “What the hell happened?” he asked, voice pitched low.

Dave’s head lifted, movement so jerky it was amazing he didn’t brain himself against the wall. Karkat could see clearly his wide eyes, the blown pupils and alien whites around his irises. “Holy shit,” Dave breathed, climbing to his feet and holstering his gun in the same movement. There was a tremor in his hand as he dropped his glasses back into place. “Karkat?”

“Dave,” Karkat said slowly. “Are you here? Did AR try to boot you again?”

For a second, there was a total lack of recognition in Dave’s face, his lips parted, tongue between his teeth. “I’m. Oh, thank fuck, I’m dreaming.” He nodded slowly and rubbed his forehead. “The gala. And then we came here. That’s… a huge fucking relief, jesus.”

Already Karkat had been sitting on some slight suspicion, given how badly Dave had lost the entire quantity of his shit in the gala. There was a veneer of aloof detached douchebaggery to most things Dave did, and even if it was fake, it was usually more genuine than _this_. For all that Dave was a fucking mess of a human being, Karkat had to begrudgingly admit he was a good pointman.

Something was _wrong_.

“What’s wrong with your totem?” Karkat asked stepping in close to Dave. “How did you look around _at this_ and not know it was a fucking dream?”

The laugh was almost _bashful_ , Dave’s head bowing as he looked down at the pocketwatch. It’s chain was looped around his thumb, and he let it hang from that, swinging pendulously. “Yeah… Yeah, about that.”

Already Karkat was not a fan of whatever was fucking happening here, and nothing Dave said was improving the situation.

Following a terrible, awful hunch, Karkat reached out. Moving slowly and giving Dave all the time he needed, he was unsurprised when Dave let him touch the watch, wrapping his fingers around it and lifting it. Dave was not the kind of rookie who would let someone touch his totem. And yet, Karkat pulled it gently away from him, turning the watch other in his palm.

 _Goddammit_ , Karkat thought as Dave just watched him, lips curled into a sad little smile.

Pressing the button at the top, Karkat opened the watch and looked inside.

Under the glass, the watch was unmoving. The second hand didn’t tick. He couldn’t feel any mechanism inside working.

On the flipside, tucked into the cover of the watch and hidden every time it was closed, was a worn photograph of Rose.

All at once, everything Karkat knew about Dave coalesced into one answer. One stupid, dangerous disaster of an answer.

He squeezed the watch, letting it click shut. “God-fucking-dammit, Dave. Please-- and I don’t fucking say _please_ often, but _please_ tell me you’re fucking with me.” Karkat looked up, and almost started _screaming_ at the sight of his own reflection in Dave’s ridiculous fucking tinted lenses. “ _Tell me where your fucking totem is._ ”

Dave laughed like he was coughing up glass, shaking his head.

Dropping the useless fucking trinket, Karkat fisted his hands in Dave’s shirt-- the same broken record raglan he defaulted to in _every_ dream, vulnerable and young and stupid, wearing the same shirt he’d worn the day his fucking sister first attached him to a PASIV-- and shoved him back against the wall, hoping he could jostle something loose in that fucked up brain. “ _Dave_.”

Dave’s hands wrapped around Karkat’s wrists, like he was about to push back or make him let go. They just hung there, though, grip loose and unchallenging. “Kanaya kicked my totem out of the dream,” Dave said. “Look, I _tried_. I tried to do it right. I made a dozen totems, made them by hand. Nothing was-- _solid_ enough, and a few times, I…” He stopped, lowering his gaze to somewhere around Karkat’s chest. His necklace maybe. “I didn’t know how to hold onto anything, but she did. And I could always tell it was really her. How long it takes her to frown at a bad joke, how she smiles, just-- it worked. I never worked a job without her.”

“No. Fuck, no,” Karkat growled. “You are not _justifying_ this.” He shook Dave, just enough to get him to _look_ at him again. “If I had any idea, I would’ve blacklisted you, I wouldn’t have let you _anywhere near_ this job. We’re three levels down and you don’t have a fucking totem! You knew the risks of this mission, and you can’t tell a fucking neon labyrinth from reality!”

The asshole _smiled_ again, faint and horrible, like a knife pushing slow into Karkat’s belly. “I couldn’t leave Dirk behind. Not after I shot him. I put him here. Sorry.”

Tension corded tight in Karkat’s muscles. God, he wanted to hit something. But no. “God _dammit_ ,” he spat furiously. “Fuck you and fuck the entire Strider-Lalonde lineage, Dave.”

“Yeah,” Dave sighed, shockingly agreeable. “I know.”

“Well, damn, at least you _know_ , that makes it all better. Fucking shit.” He jabbed a finger against Dave’s chest. “Are you keeping anything else from me? Actually, you know what, fuck it.” He plucked Dave’s shades off his nose, tossed them carelessly over his shoulder. The sound they made as they clattered to the floor made Dave flinch, but Karkat _refused_ to feel bad. “No more hiding. I’m not losing you, especially not to your own stupidity.”

He backed away from the wall, and felt a swell of _something_ as Dave took a half-step to follow. Fuck, but Dave Strider was fucked up, even more than Karkat’s worst fears.

Deep down, Karkat had known that clearing Dave for work three years ago had been one of his bigger mistakes. If he could go back and meet with Past Karkat, he’d punch him in the teeth for letting himself be convinced, for being attached to the smug, sad human with the broken dreams and famous last name.

“Come on,” Karkat said, tugging Dave close. “Stay behind me. _Don’t_ do _anything_ unless I tell you, okay?”

Taking his pistol in one hand, Dave put the other on Karkat’s shoulder, and nodded. “Sure. View’s best back here anyway.”

He only managed one step before _that_ sunk in, and Karkat looked over his shoulder at Dave. “Holy shit, Dave. Timing.”

Without his glasses, the flush in his face was more obvious, smudged red under his freckles. He averted his gaze. “Right. Sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Karkat listened, and headed towards the next heartbeat.

* * *

 

**> Roxy: Find Dirk.**

 

Roxy was running.

They were in her head, her dream, and Roxy knew where she was going, but it was still a race. The ground glowed neon under her boots as she pelted down the narrow halls of the maze. She took her corners sharply, bouncing off the walls as needed to maintain momentum, pointing herself in the vague direction of the pastel rainbow glow.

There were shortcuts, because Rose and Terezi were good architects, and she found every one, shaving off seconds and minutes of time as she leapt through false walls and slid under hidden gaps against the floor. Huge stretches of empty space vanished between a blink of her eye, her speed almost shocking her.

She was so close she could taste it, and it tasted like the terrible tequila sunrises she and Dirk had made after their first successful dream, ice melting in the Texan heat watering everything down, bursts of cool water and bottom shelf liquor. It was there in her damn grasp.

The dream was shaped like a labyrinth, and if Roxy knew anything about her brother, the ying to her yang, the one to her zero, the flipside of her trick coin, it was that if you gave Dirk the chance to be the monster, he’d show up with his best Godzilla impression and a can-do attitude.

She was making the best possible time through the dream, better than anyone else could with years of practice. In her head, Calliope made a few pained sympathetic noises every time Roxy impacted against something, but hey, she wouldn’t carry her bruises outside the dream, so what did it matter?

Her lungs felt ready to burst out of her chest by the time she catapulted around the last corner into the center courtyard.

In her mind, how this was supposed to go: Dirk turning to see her, giving her that little half smile of his, _what took you so long, Ro-Lal?_ , and taking her hand.

How it really went: Dirk knelt in the center, face shadowed and lit strangely from the shifting light that circled him, no source, just color and thrown darkness.

And behind him, the real monster at the end of the book, was the Auto-Responder, standing tall with the tip of his sword against Dirk’s back.

Roxy stood still, and slowly lifted her hands, away from her rifle and gun. God, had AR been faster? Or was AR self aware enough to fucking place himself in the center of the labyrinth too? _Shit_.

“Hey there. Bro, how you doing?” Roxy asked, voice soft and cautious.

A muscle in Dirk’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head once, hard.

 _What… what do we do?_ Calliope wondered quietly.

Roxy had no fucking idea.

“Well, this has certainly been a merry fucking chase,” the shade said. One hand on Dirk’s shoulder, the other holding the sword. _Shit_. “It’s been educational, having all these new dreamers to play off. However you’ve been obfuscating your nature, that’s real interesting too.” He tilted his head, red eyes burning through the black glass.

He’d stolen Dirk’s sunglasses, Roxy noticed. Fucking imposter asshole.

“Listen,” Rosy started, hands still lifted, taking one step forward. She had no plan, but she needed to do _something._

“Yeah, no,” AR said, cutting her off. His fingers on Dirk tightened, and Dirk sucked in a breath, eyes squeezing shut. It wasn’t hard to imagine the tip of the sword sinking in just enough. “Roxy, I respect you. You’re one hell of a dreamer, and always gave me my dues, more than the others ever did. More than _this prick_ ever did.” Dirk grunted, head bowing. “But this isn’t a negotiation. It never was.”

“Get out.” The words sounded ripped from a raw throat as Dirk opened his eyes and stared at Roxy. “Rox, just get everyone _out!_ ”

A step, a slide, and blooded steel appeared in the center of Dirk’s chest.

“NO!” Roxy reached for her gun, dropping to one knee. Practiced, smooth, she lifted it.

He only got away by firing right back at her. Roxy threw herself sideways into the wall, arms lifted to shield her head. The shots went wide, wide enough that she was pretty sure he wasn’t _actually_ trying to hit her; it was a distraction. After all, his job was done; the only thing he had to do was survive until the end of the dream now.

She looked up just in time to watch AR disappear around the corner. She took two steps towards him before changing course, towards Dirk. _Dirk._

 _We can kick him!_ Calliope shouted, frantic. _Roxy, when’s the next kick, if we can just get Dirk a level up, then maybe..!_

She wanted to hunt down the son of a bitch and kill him, but Calliope was right. Roxy hurried forward, sliding across the smooth floor to pull Dirk close. His body was heavy, and warm, and there was blood, oh god.

When she touched his face, it left red behind, and she let out a hurt noise, rubbing it away, smearing it down the hard angle of his chin. “Hey, you. Hey there, bad boy, stay with me, just for…”

 _Two minutes_ , Calliope answered.

“Just two minutes, and I can kick you up, okay?” She smiled, chin wobbling. “You can tell Kanaya it’s you, and she can boot you higher, we can get you _out_.”

Dirk shut his eyes and took a wet, ragged breath. “Don’t know if... “ He lifted a hand, slow and wavering, and she caught it, clutched tight. Her grip was stronger than his, so much so she worried about hurting him, crushing his bones too tight, but still couldn’t stop. “Thanks for the attempt, Ro-Lal. Thanks for comin’ back.”

“Shh, shh, shut up, shh.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, do you remember the summer we built the PASIV? I was j-just thinking about that. Remember those fucking terrible drinks we had to celebrate? That tequila tasted like fuckin’ acetone, it was terrible. And we didn’t have grenadine, so we used the syrup from the cherry jar.”

“Rox.” The hard lines around his eyes were fading, the pain in his face leaving inch by inch.

“Dirk, don’t, we came so far, _please_!” She held his face between her hands, leaned down to kiss him, planting one on her dreaming Prince. Nothing. Turning her head, she held her cheek against his mouth, straining to feel anything.

No trace of breath. She rested a hand on his chest. Unmoving.

Vision swimming, Roxy bent like a fallen tree, her face against his hair as she let out a tortured scream. She’d _had_ him, he’d been in her arms and now he was gone. All because that fucking shade, all because Dirk had the audacity not to be as invincible as she needed him to be.

But he wasn’t dead. There was his blood all over her hands and arms, and her legs where it pooled out of him, but he was in Limbo.

So time was already against her.

Roxy fumbled her gun out of her ankle holster again, flicked the safety, lifted it to her head.

 _Roxy, stop! You’re the dreamer!_ Calliope shouted between her ears. _You can’t go after him, you’ll drop everyone into Limbo!_

She was right. She was fucking right. Roxy was uniquely _the one fucking person_ who couldn’t do this. “Dammit. _Dammit_.” Setting her gun aside, she shifted, sitting properly on the floor with her legs stretched in front of her. He was heavy, but she still dragged Dirk closer, until his head and shoulders were on her lap, heavy, fading heat, and damp.

With him situated, Roxy picked up her gun again, held it with both hands, skyward, and fired. Fired. Again and again, one shot after another.

* * *

 

**> Dave: Follow Karkat.**

 

It’d been a long time since Dave had felt so shaken up in a dream.

Actually, if he really thought about it, the last time he’d gotten this fucked up over his job was probably the _last_ time he’d dreamshared with Karkat, three years ago. Probably wasn’t Karkat’s fault, though. If Dave sat down and really considered all the evidence and angles, he might come to the unlikely but damning conclusion that this was _his own_ fault.

Wild.

It was hard to put any blame on Karkat when Dave was holding onto his shoulder, watching how Karkat carefully cleared every sharp corner they came across, full SWAT mode.

After a while, Karkat grit his teeth audibly. “Where the fuck are all the projections?”

It _was_ creepily lonely in the labyrinth. “Well, I got two guesses for you,” Dave offered drolly. “One, that having Callie riding along with Roxy as she dreams has given us an awesome projection-free level, courtesy of funky cherub neural bullshit.”

“Hm. We never tested that before she left the Project. Feasible, I guess.”

“Or, and what I think’s likely, is that we’re in a labyrinth, and the only creature in one of these, traditionally speaking and all, is the minotaur. Or the Jim Henson rejects led by David Bowie. Depends on Dirk and AR’s association with the concept. Puppets could be waiting around any corner.”

“Right,” Karkat sighed. “I almost wish there were fucking projections around.”

“Yeah. Kinda weird.” He rubbed his palm up and down Karkat’s back for a second. “All we gotta do is hope we’re headed the right way.”

“We are,” Karkat said. “Someone’s this way.”

**== >**

Because he wasn’t a total asshole, Dave did nothing to betray his disappointment when they found Jake, rather than Roxy or Dirk. Obviously Dirk was going to be further in, but. Still.

Jake was sure happy to see them. He was headed their direction through the labyrinth, and his face split into a grin as he spotted them. “Well, Lady Luck’s finally flipped me a good card. I feel like I’ve been going in circles this whole time, I’ve not made a jot of headway. Our boy’s got to be in here somewhere.”

“So you haven’t seen Roxy or AR?” Karkat asked.

“‘Fraid not, no.” Jake sighed, lips curling down into a pout. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this… strange Tron hedgemaze. Say, isn’t there a trick to it, where you put one hand on the wall and follow it until you’re out?”

“No,” Karkat said. He pointed in a direction, vaguely ahead and to the left. “She’s that way. Or, around there.”

“Oh. How d’you know that?”

That got a real chuckle out of Karkat. Dave could feel it under his hand, how the sound rumbled loose from his chest. “I swear to god, for every time one of you shitheads asked me a question that I can just answer with _Knight of Blood_ , I’m billing Harley a quarter million in overage.”

As much as he kind of wanted to know how the hell Karkat’s dreamer class worked, that brought up a far more pertinent, important question. “So… exactly how much _are_ you getting paid for this?”

Karkat gave him a toothy smirk over his shoulder. “Way it works, when I’m in a dream, I can hear the dreamers. Their heartbeats, actually. I always know where they are, or at least what direction and sort of how far away they are.” He tapped two fingers against his ear. “Bonus, I always know when I’m dreaming.”

That was… Karkat had said he was _disgustingly well-suited_ for dreaming, and Dave had to agree. He’d always thought of his own rewind power as a solid tool for the box, albeit a dangerous one given how it could potentially collapse a dream. But suddenly a lot of shit Dave knew about Karkat made sense.

It also brought something else to mind. He tightened his grip on Karkat and pulled him around so he could look at his face. “Wait a damn minute, so you don’t have a totem either, do you? You use your fucking power instead?”

Jake let out a sharp, startled noise. “Totem, hang on, what? Who doesn’t have--”

The mix of smug glee, anger, and disbelief that took over Karkat’s features was a fucking sight to behold, the way his face twitched as his emotions waged a war of microexpressions. It was enough to make Jake take a half step back, his eyes darting nervously to Dave. “ _This_ fucking sorry waste of humanity has a totem. It’s just his _sister_. Which,” he turned again, grabbed Dave’s hand and replaced it firmly on his shoulder, “is not remotely comparable to my totem.”

“Fuck off,” Dave said. It was probably _fair_ for everyone to know, but it turned out that the more people who knew, the more foolish Dave felt.

“Dave,” Jake breathed, brow furrowed deeply. “Is that true?”

“Can we just go?” Dave replied. “We’re not made of time down here.”

“Maid of-- oh. Yeah, let’s find the others.” Karkat snapped his fingers, pointing over his shoulder. “Jake, cover Dave’s back. Let’s keep moving.”

**== >**

It was the worst conga line that Dave had been a part of, and before Rose had found their calling in dreamsharing, Dave had DJed a lot of shitty weddings full of white people dancing. At least those were just embarrassing. Here, Dave was sandwiched between the County Fair Blue Ribbon winner of worst one night stand ever and Jake goddamn English.

It was hard to figure out which was more mortifying, especially given how Dave was apparently the _liability_ of the team now. Him, Dave L. Strider of the… well, of the _I’m Dirk Strider’s Kid Brother_ fame.

There was a chance that his shock was wearing off, and he was remembering to be pissed off about just about everything.

There weren’t even any projections to fight off. The labyrinth was spooky silent around them, and yet any time Dave started to withdraw his hand from Karkat’s shoulder, he got a sharp glare over his shoulder.

“Can’t a guy fuckin’ scratch his nose without the third degree,” Dave hissed the third time Karkat did that.

“You really have no idea how deep of shit you’re in,” Karkat shot back, and kept up the icy stare until Dave put his hand back in place.

Jake nudged Dave’s back faintly. “He seems mad.”

Dave nearly rolled his eyes before remembering Karkat had tossed his shades. At the time, that had seemed reasonable. Now, life without seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.

Being kind of annoyed with Karkat didn’t stop Dave from practically jumping into his back when gunfire started to ring out through the labyrinth. After the quiet, it was deafening and echoing.

“Roxy,” Karkat said.

The whole careful progression went out the window. Karkat caught Dave’s hand, tugging him along in a way that would’ve chafed if Dave wasn’t suddenly thinking about Rox and Dirk and what could’ve happened. Best case scenarios didn’t happen in jobs like this. The fact that the gunfire _kept coming_ didn’t help.

“It’s coming from over there!” Jake said, breathing heavy as he ran along with them. “Behind that wall, right?”

Dave sprinted forward, ignoring the way Karkat cursed under his breath behind him. Whatever. He slammed into the wall, too much inertia to slow down, and placed his hands on it, like he could just phase through it if he tried. “Rox! Roxy!” he shouted up to the top.

“Dave?” She sounded muffled from the other side. “Thank christ, I need help! Hurry the fuck up!”

For a moment, Dave didn’t know-- should he keep following the path, hoping he was towards the end of it? What if it looped away again?

Jake appeared at his side, following his gaze towards the top. “Alright, chaps, who knows how to climb a flat surface?”

“You want to go over?” Dave asked.

“Fastest way.” He looked between Karkat and Dave. He was quick to avert his gaze from Dave’s eyes, clearing his throat. “Look, boost me up and I’ll help you over. We don’t have time to mess about.”

“You first, then Dave,” Karkat bade, mouth pulled into a flat, unhappy line.

“Right-o.”

Figuring out the _how_ of that took a moment. Karkat was stronger, but Dave was taller, and the wall was a formidable bastard. Jake seemed to know what he was doing, though, climbing up from Karkat onto his and Dave’s shoulders, balanced between them so they could work together to boost him up. Jake was _solidly_ built, having the density that came with his natural deep tan and genuine affection for shit like hiking and kayaking.

That kind of lifestyle was more alien than the actual _aliens_ , in Dave’s opinion, but at least Jake knew how to jump, launching himself up and catching his hands on the edge above their heads.

Once he had his grip, he just hauled himself up, making Dave’s biceps twinge with sympathetic pain. _How?_

Straddling the wall, Jake bent down, offering his hand back. “Hop up.”

Karkat gave Dave a boost, hands steady as he lifted him up. Jake’s hand was within reach, thanks to how damn _long_ Dave was (thank you very much). Getting his footing to climb up like Jake had wasn’t as easy as it had looked, but Dave managed, with Jake grabbing the back of his belt to haul him up the last few inches.

From the new vantage point, Dave could see:

the neon courtyard, the pool of blood, and his sister cradling his brother in her arms.

Oh god, no no, fuck, _no_. Not  _again_.

Jumping down from the wall fucking _hurt_ , Dave forgetting to fall properly and grunting in pain as his knees protested. It wasn’t enough to slow him as he scrambled over to Roxy, using his hands to brace himself as he tumbled down next to her.

His knees slid a little in the tacky blood, and Dave jerked his gaze to Roxy’s, nausea slamming into him.

Her cheeks were tear-stained, the tracks down her face tinted slightly with her makeup. Her hands were whiteknuckled around her gun and around Dirk’s chest, holding him close. It took just a brush of skin for him to feel how cold Dirk was, to hope it was just the dream, just the unreality of the dream.

“No,” Dave breathed, hands hovering, unsure what the fuck to do.

Roxy took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to fix this,” she said, voice a tremble. “He’s been down there for… for too long. Like, five minutes? Maybe more? H-how long is that in Limbo?”

Dave very carefully didn’t think about it. He didn’t want the answer to that question, and wasn’t sure if his class would spit out a response regardless of what he wanted. “We can’t leave him down there,” Dave said, flat and hollow.

Roxy shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t follow him, I’m the dreamer! Dave…”

All of a sudden, Dave knew what he had to do. It was supposed to be Rose, and then it wasn’t. Then, it was supposed to be Roxy, and now it wasn’t.

Process of elimination.

He was not going to leave Dirk behind again. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. And he sure as fuck wasn’t going to leave it up to someone else, like last time.

Dave nodded once, deciding. “But I can. Send me.”

Roxy’s lip quivered as another tear leaked out of her eye. She nodded in return, and placed a hand on his chest, nudging him away. “Step back.”

* * *

 

**> Karkat: Fly off the fucking handle.**

 

Karkat knew the instant Dave left his sight that shit was about to go off the rails to a heretofore unimagined degree. Every second it took to get up that fucking wall was an agony. 

As he ascended to the top and steadied himself enough to look over to the other side, Karkat watched Dave and Roxy in a red-stained courtyard, around the body of Dirk, and sat there in horror as Roxy pointed her gun at Dave and gave him a neat, tidy fucking double tap, professional as you please.

Dave fucking dropped, and Karkat…

For five seconds, Karkat didn’t know what the fuck even happened. It was a stunned blur. When it passed, his hip hurt like someone had taken a club to it, and he was standing over the fallen bodies of two separate Striders.

“ _Goddammit_ , no,” Karkat said, lips numb, hands trembling as he clenched them in his hair, shoving the palm of his hand painfully into his own horns. “Fucking _shit fuck_ , he doesn’t have a _fucking totem!_ ” He shut his eyes, trying to swallow the urge to _scream_ down from his thorax. “ _Dammit, Dave_ , fuck you and fuck your _entire fucking family!_ ”

Roxy’s gun fell from her hand, and she covered her mouth, eyes wide. “He-- _what?_ What does that mean?”

Karkat dragged both hands down his face, taking just a second to press them against his mouth and muffle his furious shout. “Mmmngh. It _means_ that Dave never had a proper totem and now he’s in fucking Limbo.”

Roxy stared at him with naked horror. Her other hand, bloody, twined tightly in Dirk’s shirt. “I… oh my god, I-- I didn’t know, oh shit, Dave.”

“Didn’t know your little brother was a slow motion fifty car pileup? Guess what, he is! Merry Christmas!” He shook himself hard, shoulders to shoes, knocking loose the hysterical _thing_ that was rattling around in his chest. “We don’t have time to meditate on the audacious stupidity of Dave fucking Strider. Where is AR?”

She pointed. “He stabbed Dirk and bolted.”

“Well,” Karkat said slowly. The variables spun around, fit into place, and spelled out just how fucked they were. “Right. Get after him. Send that motherfucker down to Limbo if it’s the last thing you fucking do.”

He turned, and held out a hand.

To his relief and surprise, Roxy didn’t hesitate. Whatever shaking, shellshocked thing had overtaken her, she put it away. She pushed Dirk’s lifeless body aside and slapped her red hand into Karkat’s, let him pull her upright. She was… really a fucking _mess_ , but her eyes were sharp and met his evenly. “You’ll get them out?” she asked.

“Plan fucking Z,” Karkat announced with a wry smirk. “Lalonde, find that shade and dropkick his ass to Limbo. I’ll recover the Striders. When you send AR down, kick yourself and let Calliope go.” He lifted his chin a bit. “Calliope, you get to Jade and have her kick you. Tell Jane to wake us all up, that it all went to shit and we need out.”

“If you’re still down there when--”

“We won’t be.” There was a lot of bravado in his voice that he didn’t feel. “Clear?”

Roxy paused, then nodded. “Got it. Good luck, Karkat. Get my brothers back.” She shook his hand once, then let go, turning and breaking into a run like a sprinter from the starting block.

It was all easier said than done.

He turned, and faced Jake, who stood just outside the courtyard, his fists clenched at his side.

“You have a gun that fires actual bullets?”

Jake blinked, and nodded, reaching for his thigh holster. “What’s our play, then?”

“Our play.” He took the offered gun, clicked off the safety, and shrugged his shoulder. His sleeve bunched at his elbow, revealing the watch underneath. At this level, with the sedation they were under… Karkat did some fast math in his head, and hoped he was getting it right. It would’ve been easier with Dave, but.

“Our play is that Roxy is going to collapse this level, so I have to kick you.” He aimed at Jake’s face, one eye on the digital display of his watch. He really needed to upgrade to one that gave him a second counter. All he had was the blinking light and his own reaction time. “Sorry I don’t have time for an elegant method like Kanaya. The old standard will have to do.” Shrugging, he added, apologetically, “You won’t feel it.”

Jake reached out, hand closing around the gun and shoving it down and away. “Balls to that. I’m coming with you,” he said, steel in his voice for the first time since Karkat had met him.

“Uh, no.” He re-aimed. “You really fucking aren’t. My prime directive was to keep you idiots out of Limbo.”

Slowly, Jake lifted his hands. Starting at his fingertips, a warm, yellow glow pulsed, subtle at first. It expanded, crawling down Jake’s hands like a glove knit of sunlight, warm and _organic_ , standing out amid the synthetic world around them and its own cold light. “If you try it, I will take you with me,” Jake said.

It was a threat, and one that endangered the entire fucking mission, but Karkat found himself more _annoyed_ than anything. He frowned at Jake, baffled. “What is your _deal?_ You have been the one working cog in this fucking busted machine until now!”

“Because I’m the reason Dirk is here!” Jake snapped. He stepped back, like he was shocked by his own outburst. Something in his face cracked, the casually cheerful, collected expression giving way to a raw pain. “I’m the one who put Dirk here. I’m the reason we’re _all_ here.”

“Jake, this is not the time--”

He moved closer, into Karkat’s face. “I told Dave who to shoot in the other job. The dream was collapsing, the kick was coming, and people were bleeding out. I panicked.” As he spoke, his tone evened out, less panic and more confession. This close, his green eyes were very wide, and pleading. “Dave was hesitating, didn’t know which Dirk was the real one, and I told him which to shoot. And I got it _wrong._ So if you think I’m going to let you clean up my mess alone, I’ve got news for you.”

Karkat… really did not have time for this, and could feel every second ticking by like it was a decade. Jake’s fingers were still filled with light, lifted and ready for _whatever_ he was capable of.

Fucking _Pages_.

“You know what, fine. Fine! Why the fuck not? Let’s all head down and have a fucking picnic. This job is already an unmitigated disaster!” Karkat aimed at Jake, fired, then turned the gun on himself, and together they fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to [thelonboots for calling it](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/66660235). When I got that comment I high fived myself. I'm so glad.
> 
> btw the next chapter will be another colossal one. +13K again. uuuugh now i have to edit it, boooooo fucking hissssss.


	8. this frozen sea, it melts beneath me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15,163 words. for fuck's sake.

**> Jake: Check your totem.**

 

Wakefulness found Jake alone, in a cold, run down room. A bare mattress under his back and stale air in his lungs, he reached over, moving instinctively. His glasses were where he expected, arms folded, and left on the corner of the mattress by his head.

He was always drowsy and a bit out to lunch when he woke up from a long sleep. The details came to him slow; the world on fire and the resultant apocalyptic he now lived in. Something had happened, and now life was radioactive green and staid grey, and there was no end in sight.

For a moment, he lay still on the bed, trying to work up the urge to move. Was there even a point? Another day scavenging around, alone in a desolate landscape.

 _You wanted adventure, Jake English_ , he chided himself. _Sit up and face it like a man._

But it was hard. And there was no one around to see how weak he was. So he curled onto his side, one arm folded under his head, and the other tucked under his chin. He could take a few more minutes.

As he lay there, his fingers nudged something around his neck. Eyes shut, he traced it, curious. It was a long cord of worn leather, weathered and aging from the years. Just long enough to reach under the neck of his shirt, not so long it could be removed. He found the knot in it by touch; it was so old and undisturbed, the leather held so tight, he doubted he even _could_ unknot it if he wanted.

He trailed his fingers along the other way and found something hanging at the other end: a pendant. A skull carved of precious rock.

Dirk had given it to him. Six month anniversary, about three months before everything climbed into a handbasket and floated its way down the River Styx into Hades’ parlor. He’d fussed with it in his pocket for the entire day before asking Jake to close his eyes and tying it around his neck.

Jake had never taken it off. It weathered everything, holding fast around his neck. Once or twice, he’d attempted to take it off, but… either it had fused into an unbroken cord after so long or he hadn’t tried hard enough.

Why he never simply elected to slice it off with his pocket knife, Jake didn’t know. But when he needed a totem, it was there, perfect with every point memorized, even the crack he’d put in it when he’d tripped on his face that one time.

Jake dragged his thumb across the faint impression of teeth and opened his eyes to see it glowing in his grasp. The nephrite emitted dark green light.

He was dreaming, then. It was easier then to cast his mind around, putting together the pieces. Totem or no, it was always hard to remember the moments before he fell into a dream, even if it was from _another_ dream.

Limbo. He was in Limbo. He’d, in actual fact, _insisted_ on coming along.

Shaking off the remnants of false pasts, Jake sat up, this time _really_ looking around.

The room was concrete and industrial walls, with rows and rows of bare iron-framed beds and flickering yellow light. The windows were smudged with dirt, and it was only as Jake got closer that he could see beyond the grime. Outside was an apparent world of empty, tall, blocky buildings. He seemed to be on a middle floor of the one he was in. Below, he couldn’t see the streets; they were obscured by a thick smog, like someone had left a smoke machine running entirely too long.

Dirk was somewhere in this. Dirk, and Dave too.

He only remembered Karkat when a distant, indistinct noise grew louder and helpfully resolved itself into footsteps. The door to the room creaked with rust and disuse as it was pushed open, revealing the extractor himself.

His eyes were very bright in the dim light, reminding Jake of jungle cats. “There you are. And hey, _someone_ in this fucking family has a proper totem. Good.”

Jake considered that. “I’m… not really _part_ of the family?”

Karkat snorted. “Hear that? That’s the incredulous snort of someone who doesn’t even share the same species and planet of origin as you and knows that’s bullshit. Anyway, let’s go. If Roxy’s smart, and so far the evidence is in favor of her being the brains of her clan, she’s going to be using our failsafe to kill this mission as soon as she downs AR. We need to be out of here by then.”

“Oh! Oh, blimey, we’re racing against time, then?” Jake jerked into motion, heading to the door. “I’ve been here navel-gazing, geez.”

“Not really. It’s still _Limbo_.” Karkat held the door open for him. Outside was a stairwell, which he immediately started ascending.

“Erm. Don’t suppose you could elaborate? Are we not in a rush to get this done?” Apparently not, given the pace Karkat took up the stairs. It wasn’t that he was lagging about, but there wasn’t any extra haste in his pace. It made Jake want to shove him aside and continue.

“Roxy will take out AR quickly. But even if it only takes her a few moments and change, down here, that’s days, maybe weeks, maybe more. And we know exactly what we’re doing and where we’re going.”

“We do?”

“We do.” Karkat pointed. “That way. Not close, but… we have time, and this is Limbo.”

Jake was unsure what that meant until they stepped through the roof access and out into the open air. Here, the state of things was even more chilling. The air was a tie-dye mix of sickly greens with bursts of vibrant orange clouds, lightning flickering about. There was no wind, and besides the spectacle in the sky, everything seemed dead. Abandoned.

“The thing about this place,” Karkat said, walking straight to the edge of the roof, “is that if you _know_ you’re here, then it’s malleable. The shit that Space dreamers do in every level, that’s fair game here.”

He stepped up gingerly on the edge, and Jake watched as a pathway just _happened_ in front of him. Levitating stone steps built themselves at his feet, and created a bridge between their rooftop and the next.

“Well, _that’s_ a neat trick,” Jake breathed, following Karkat up and across.

“It’s all clay. And it’s endless.”

“That means…” Gears spun in Jake’s head as he looked out at the dour urban sprawl and the electrical storms and the smog below. “Someone made _this world_.”

“Depending on how long Dirk’s been down here. He could’ve been here weeks or months.”

Jake gaped. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Yep. So really, we’re hoping Roxy hurries up and sends AR down _sooner_ rather than later.”

As they traversed the rooftops, Jake continued to search around for any sign of… anything. Really, if anyone was down here, Karkat would know, but still, Jake _hoped_ …. hoped it wasn’t just this, this world forever.

“At least my team made something nice when they were down here,” Karkat mumbled. “Oh, speaking of.” He stopped halfway across a rooftop, waiting for Jake. He waved a hand ahead of them. “Go ahead.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, _you_. You’re stuck down here too at the moment. You need to know how to do this.” He pushed Jake’s shoulder, an ungentlemanly shove towards the edge. “This shit comes easy to Space dreamers, but the rest of us have to _learn._ So, build a path.”

“Wh-- what if I lead us the wrong way?” Jake asked.

Karkat silently pointed.

“Ah, right. Makes sense.” It didn’t seem like Karkat was going to relent, and he did have a point, even if Jake really wished he didn’t.

But by fucking golly he’d _chosen_ to come along. Squaring his shoulders, Jake stepped up to the edge of the roof and… shot Karkat a questioning glance.

Karkat sighed, slapping a hand over his face. “Just… it comes from the same place as your class abilities come from. Reach into wherever you pull those from, and _create_ something.” He crossed his arms. “Any day now is good.”

“You’re very impatient for someone who has so much time.”

“I could have an eternity growing cold and I’d still want you to hurry the fuck up, English.”

Right. _Create something._ Jake planted his feet and held out his hands. It was such a rare thing, for his abilities to have a role in a job. Often, they just shimmered in his palms, a warm light in the dark of unconsciousness. His forging didn’t come from that light. If anything, he just _hoped_ his disguises worked. That probably didn’t count as far as the application of his class went.

It’d been easier before, when he was staring down barrel’s end in the maze. Jake almost asked Karkat to pull a gun on him again, in case that would help him wind the key on his powers again.

Instead, he let his eyes slip closed, and reached out his hands, and then beyond.

There was sound, the assembly of something in front of him. Unwilling to release his concentration, Jake kept his eyes closed until at last, it stopped.

“Holy bulgesucking fuck,” Karkat breathed. “So that’s what a Page in Limbo can do.”

Jake opened his eyes, and staggered back in the face of a glittering golden bridge that had formed before him. Compared to Karkat’s simple stone paths, his was something that would get San Francisco’s knickers in a right twist. Gleaming braids of sunlight suspension and archways cut a path through the gloom. It’s light seemed almost solid, bits of dusty glitter twinkling down into the smog below.

“I… I did that?” Jake gasped.

“Pages,” Karkat sighed. There was a faint smile on his face. “The further down in the dream they are, the more fucking ridiculous they get.” He met Jake’s eyes, eyebrow arching. “Maybe bringing you along wasn’t the worst idea.”

“Oh, erm, well.” Jake grinned and bowed, gesturing to the golden bridge he’d built out of his own mind. “Tally ho?”

**== >**

For a while, Karkat let Jake lead the way. He pointed to the next rooftop they needed to get to, and stood back to let Jake forge the way for them. It became progressively easier to do. Soon, Jake could watch with wide, excited eyes as he turned pure light into substance. It was a bally sight to see, over and over.

At first, he simply pointed and let whatever sort of path that wanted to exist pour out of him. Then, he experimented a bit. Toyed with the architecture, built rope bridges and gaudy canopied travesties and angular modern walkways. Anything he could imagine, it was possible.

Eventually, Karkat elbowed him aside and took over. “Glad you’re having fun, Jake, but I get the suspicion you _might_ have a handle on this now, and we’ve got places to be.”

Jake watched Karkat build another simple bridge, and mourned the lack of ambient glow and woven light. “Well, if you insist. Are we getting close? Feels like we’ve been on this walkabout for hours. Or…” he frowned, perplexed. “Maybe not? It’s… hard to be sure.”

“Limbo for you,” Karkat answered, leading again. “We’re getting there.”

It would’ve been easy to let that comment lapse into silence, but Jake found himself burning with a brand new curiosity as he stared at the back of Karkat’s head. “Say, Mr. Vantas…”

“Hm?”

“If you don’t mind me saying, and I hope I’m not shoving my foot in my mouth and ruining what I think is a nice rapport between us,” Jake said, ignoring the way that made Karkat snort in amusement, “you seem… calmer here than you were for the… entire rest of the job, really.”

“Calmer,” Karkat repeated slowly. “Eh. I’ve… done this part before.”

“Right.”

A few seconds passed, painful and awkward.

“Oh my god, _what?_ What, what is the problem?”

“Nothing!” Jake said quickly. He looked at his feet, like Karkat might _know_ that he was staring at the back of his head like he could read the secrets of the universe from his soot black wiry hair.

“Jegus, Jake.”

It was hard not to bristle a little. “Well, fine, all right! I-- I wondered what the sam hell happened! Back when you discovered Limbo.”

The sharp, short laugh Karkat let out was humorless and a little mean. “I didn’t discover _shit_. I was actually the last person to enter Limbo. That was all Vriska.”

“Oh. It’s weird. Everyone knows what happened, but not…” Jake gestured uselessly. “What happened. ‘Cept John, but he never told me any of it.”

“Not surprised.” Karkat sighed. “That was around the time he was interning under Vriska. We didn’t know yet how dreamsharing worked with humans, so she roped him in. Never should’ve let that shit happen.”

“But… _how?_ How did it…”

There was a moment of silence, long enough that Jake was willing to let it go. He was prying, he knew it. It wasn’t kind.

“It all started with a question,” Karkat said quietly. “Vriska wanted to know what happened when the dreamer was sedated and couldn’t wake up when they were kicked. That day was supposed to be a routine experiment in layered dreams. We’d done it a dozen times before. Feferi was our Level One. Kanaya was Level Two. I was with her, to make sure she was safe. Terezi was sedated to let her support the rest of the team in Level Three. It was… god, Vriska, Terezi, John… Eridan and Sollux. Aradia. Gamzee. Tavros.” His voice was even, like he was reading the words out of a book. It was eerie, to hear Karkat speak with so little inflection.

“Vriska apparently shot Terezi, knowing she was too deeply sedated to wake up. And everyone wound up in Limbo. And…” He shook his head slightly. “Time’s different there. Here. Hours wore into days, and everyone was in a world where they could make _anything_ they could imagine.”

Jake… suddenly regretted asking this. Because he was supposed to say something here, something comforting, perhaps. But he had _no idea_ what it was, and just bit his lip, listening.

“John was the only one who realized it was going to shit. I… still don’t know the details, but Terezi wanted to stay, or something, and John shot her. Booted her out and back up to Kanaya and me.”

“Christ…” Jake breathed, then winced.

“Yeah. When she woke up, she explained the bullshit Vriska had pulled. So I went down after them.”

“How? I-- I mean, ignore me, sorry, please continue.”

“No, fair question. I was supposed to go to Level Three with the rest, was sedated for it. But Kanaya wanted some backup, so I stayed with her. Anyway.” He shrugged mechanically. “I went down. Found John. He was trying to find the others. I kicked him, because he’d been down there… _fuck_ , so long. He didn’t even know anymore. Found Tavros, and he was… in bad shape, so I kicked him too. Went back up with him.”

Karkat was so deep in his story, he stood at the end of one of the rooftops. His eyes were unfocused, distant, like he was looking through this Limbo and into another. Silently, Jake built the next bridge, keeping it as plain and inoffensive as he could.

“Eridan and Sollux woke up. Seemed they took each other out on their own. By then, the music for the kick was playing, but… I went down one more time, because Terezi kept _asking_ about.” He stopped hard, took a breath. “I tried to find the others. Found the spider queen herself, building a fucking kingdom all her own in the middle of the sky. Tried to talk to her, but she was… I don’t know, I should’ve shot her, but she seemed _happy_. Like, Vriska Serket wasn’t a happy troll. She was never fucking satisfied, which was probably where her asinine genius ideas came from. But in Limbo, in a world that finally obeyed her every whim, she seemed content. And then it was over.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered. A ball of guilt ate away at his chest. Why had he asked? Deep down, he didn’t think Karkat would give him-- _him! of all people!_ \-- a bloody answer.

“So… fuck, what all happened? So Aradia, Gamzee, and Vriska never woke up. In theory they should have after the kick, but… The longer you’re in Limbo, the harder it is to return. Sollux was already pretty fucked up from other disastrous shit in the Project, so he was alive but never _woke up_. Some of us still go dreamshare with him sometimes. Terezi went blind, that’s how _that_ happened. Uh… Tavros lost every marble in his thinkpan, was afraid to shut his eyes, so he’s… in a safe place. I don’t visit as much as I should.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Eridan-- jegus fuck, Eridan went fucking _shithive_ , insisting he was still asleep, and shot Feferi and himself.” Another mirthless laugh. “Nepeta and Equius, they were our chemist and, like, mechanic? This was back when someone had to monitor the fucking MASIV to make sure it was working right. They were out of the blast radius.” He hummed softly. “I don’t think Terezi ever forgave me.”

“For-- what? Forgave you for _what_?”

“Not getting Vriska out. They were moirails. Anyway. That was the inglorious end of Project Ophiuchus. There wasn’t _enough_ of us after that to even have a team. We got severance packages and were cut loose.”

What did someone say after _that?_ Jake’s mind whirled with it all. The sandbox world around them suddenly seemed infinitely more sinister. Predatory. It was hard to shake the feeling that if he looked carefully, he would see bodies. But it didn’t work that way, he _knew_ that.

Nevermind the whispers through the darknet, about dreamers who’d run into a shade, a troll with lazy purple eyes and a perpetual grin. Jake shuddered at the thought, and hoped he didn’t invoke the Capricorn or anything.

“I’m sorry,” Jake offered. “That’s… a damn run of unfortuitous crap to live through.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Clearing his throat, Karkat pointed in a new, slightly off center direction. “That way. We’re close.”

“Close?”

“To Dave.”

“You can tell?”

Karkat nodded. “Just when it’s him, yeah.”

Jake considered that for a moment. “Oh. _Oh_ , by jove, I didn’t-- my, it seems quite obvious in hindsight, gosh.”

A worried, hesitant expression creased Karkat’s face. “What?”

“You and the younger Strider. Is he your… I believe the term is matesprit? Or the nemesis one, I can’t remember the name.”

“Wow, alright,” Karkat said loudly. “Special wiggler sharing time is officially _over_. Fucking _wow_.”

“Erm, sorry,” Jake mumbled. “Didn’t know it was such a sore subject. I thought we were having a moment? It seemed like a moment.”

“The moment has suffered a sudden fatal attack. Suspicious circumstances, gonna need to get a legislacerator to investigate. You’re the prime suspect in its murder, so I suggest you shut the fuck up for a while.”

Well, so much for his extractor seeming calmer. Jake nodded, and wisely didn’t comment further, holding his breath until Karkat turned, leading them away again.

It’d been a nice moment, while it lasted.

* * *

**> Roxy: Chase the son of a bitch who hurt your brother.**

 

AR had a lead against Roxy. Whole minutes had passed since he pulled his stabhappy horseshit and bolted. In any other dream and with any other dreamer, that would’ve been it. End of story, he was gone and would stay gone until the kick came and everyone woke up, and remained in control.

But they were on Roxy’s turf, and Roxy was not the average dreamer. Mess with a Lalonde and she would hit back with the force of a cat five hurricane.

She had her rifle at the ready as she tore through the dream, keeping half her mind focused on the void, on keeping herself out of sight. Eyes would glance right through her. She was dust in the air, a breeze through the corridors.

She had a bullet with the Auto-Responder’s name on it. As far as she was concerned, his name was _Son of a Bitch Who Hurt My Brother_.

Still. It was one hell of a head start. She didn’t have to _catch_ AR, but she needed to get him in scope.

 _Roxy,_ Calliope said softly. She could barely hear it over the pounding of her blood in her ears. _I think I can help. I’m… a Muse of Space. Space dreamers have the most control over the dreamscape, don’t they?_

“That’s… what they say,” Roxy replied between gasps of air, not slowing at all.

 _Right. I can see it all. The entire dream, the whole maze. It’s expanding. He’s moving towards the outside._ Her voice was dreamy, like hearing the sea in a shell. _You’ll have to make a bee-line for him._

Roxy was about to ask how to do that when she rounded a corner and saw something _new_.

Embedded into the side of one of the walls, marring the blank black surface, was a ladder. Just neon rungs sticking out from the pristine surface.

Roxy hauled herself up them, and swung up onto the top of the wall. This was a part of the dream Roxy hadn’t really anticipated until she saw Jake climbing it, but if anything was glad for the oversight. From up here, she could see much farther, could see where the maze faded into… something distant that resisted her perception. Then, to the left, it instead expanded outward into unfamiliar shapes.

That way. AR was generating more of the maze that way. 

The first jump from one wall to the next was hard. It was a fair drop down, and it would sting like a bitch if she fell. But she had direction, and as she moved further and further from the courtyard, it became slowly easier. Each leap was swifter than the last, until she stopped pausing on each wall, just taking a step and pushing off to leap to the next one. This was _fast_ , and fuck AR’s lead. Roxy was hot on his heels.

_There! I caught a glimpse. I… I can feel him nearby. Eleven o’clock._

Roxy moved closer before dropping down to one knee. There wasn’t enough room to go prone, but her window would vanish before then anyway.

Her rifle felt comfortable in her hands. She sighted down the scope, smiling at her luck. A flash of movement crossed her vision, and she pulled the trigger without thinking.

AR was a shade, but Roxy was the Rogue of Void. “Eat shit,” she muttered as she watched her bullet hit something, a leg maybe. It wasn’t even remotely her most elegant shot ever, but it _worked_ ; the sound of AR slamming into a wall was music to her ears, and she traced his path from a distance, feeling like a street cat stalking along the narrow top of a fence, fleet-footed and ready to mess up anything that looked tasty.

If she hurried, she could catch him. She crossed the gap between two walls again, mayhem in her smile. “Karkat better have them out by now. I’m not waiting to put this asshole to bed.”

_Have hope, Roxy._

“Not really my thing, babe. But I’ll try.”

* * *

**> Dave: Turn around.**

 

Given how long Dave had been sitting on the metal fire escape, it really should’ve been warmer under him. 

Or, he thought so. It was hard to tell lately. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his watch. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, how much time had passed since he decided he just needed to sit and rest for a while. A few minutes? Hours? It all slipped away from him as he watched the lightning soundlessly flash above him.

His forehead rested against the railing of the fire escape, taking his weight when he couldn’t hold his head up anymore.

When he shut his eyes, things slipped away faster. It wasn’t restful, but it was quiet. He stopped thinking.

Later, when he came to again, there was a bile in the back of his throat, a shuddering fear because he was here for _something_. He had to get up, to go find it. He was sure it was really fucking important.

He shut his eyes again and tried to _remember_.

A century of stillness later, Dave heard something. It’d been so long since he’d heard anything but his own breathing, it took a moment to resolve into something that made sense.

His brain found the cabinet labeled _sensory memory_ , unlocked the drawer, and pulled it out. Blowing the dust out of the files, it unearthed the relevant one: footsteps.

Dave blinked slowly, and turned around.

Two figures. One with dark skin, glasses, and _really_ short pants. He stood at the top of the fire escape, keeping his distance. The other was descending the steps slowly. He had dark skin too, but grey, and had cute horns and red eyes.

Lips chapped, throat parched, Dave couldn’t speak much above a whisper. “Sup,” he managed, watching Karkat as he joined Dave on his floor.

He sat down on the iron floor next to Dave, scooting over to let his legs hang through the bars like Dave’s were. He wasn’t even touching Dave, and he felt warm. “Hi, idiot. How’re you enjoying Limbo?”

The word was a key sliding home in Dave’s mind, unlocking the things that had slipped away. Dave swayed into Karkat’s side, too weak to resist the pull of heat and familiarity. He’d been in the stale, lifeless air too long. “I can’t find him,” Dave said. “I thought I could. Because he’s my brother. Like, if it couldn’t be Roxy, then it _had_ to be me. But it’s _all_ like this.” He waved a hand at the world around them.

Karkat’s hand wound slowly around Dave’s shoulders. The tips of his claws trailed up and down his arm. Fuck, Dave hoped he was real. But even if not, he’d take it. “We have no way of knowing how long Dirk’s been here, the exact time dilation.”

“I…” Dave squeezed his eyes shut. “I keep trying to know. I’m supposed to know. But…” He gestured vaguely at his head, wincing. “Don’t know. Nothing feels right.”

“Yeah,” Karkat whispered, his hand curling around Dave’s bicep, squeezing. “This place sucks.”

A laugh startled out of him, and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He looked beside him, at Karkat’s eyes. “How’d you find me?”

“Totem. Felt your heartbeat. Luckily you didn’t get too far away. You gotta stop making me chase you down.”

“You like it,” Dave said boldly. “And… I think I went in circles a few times. This place is easy to get turned around in.”

“Well, thank fuck for that.” Karkat leaned in, bumping his head against Dave’s. He leaned back quickly, like he’d trespassed, like Dave wasn’t resisting the urge to hide in his fucking jacket, away from this shitty poisoned world. “Are you-- shit, I mean…”

Dave smiled. “Not good. Everything feels…” He reached out, gripped one of the iron bars in front of his face. “Even this, it’s like it’s not there. S’like being underwater, except then at least I’d feel the-- the weight of _that_ , or something. Or maybe I’m making it up. Maybe this is what reality feels like and I don’t _remember?_ I don’t know how to explain.”

“You’ve been down here too long,” Karkat said, like he was diagnosing Dave with the common cold.

“I, uh. I really fucked this up, right?” He frowned at Karkat, leaning against him harder. At least he felt a little more solid than everything else. It was like comparing the realness of a unicorn to a ghost, but still.

Karkat’s mouth twisted, his fingers digging in just a little. “Let’s get you out of here. Okay? Come on.”

Unfolding and climbing to his feet left his legs _aching_ , so much that Dave stumbled into the railing, reaching down to rub his muscles as they tingled. Karkat waited, holding Dave’s elbow, until he pushed through it and followed him upstairs to the roof.

Jake hurriedly stepped away, giving them room. Dave narrowed his eyes at him. “Uh, what’re you doing here? Did you fall too?”

“No. I’m here for you and Dirk,” Jake said. “Glad to-- to see you in one piece, Dave.”

“Thanks…”

“Okay. I’m sending you both back up,” Karkat said, his free hand tucking into his jacket. “Then I’m going to find Dirk.”

He was pulling a gun, Dave realized. Before that even sank in, Dave stepped back, tracking the pistol’s movement with wide eyes and a suddenly racing heartbeat.

Before he could say anything, Jake asked, “You know where he is? With your heartbeat thing?”

There was just a beat of hesitation, but it was enough. “Dirk’s been here a while. Gotten… one hell of a head start.”

 _That_ cagey as fuck admission superceded everything. Dave caught Karkat, a fist clenching in his shirt. “Wait, you can’t feel him? I thought you could feel every dreamer.”

Karkat glared at him. It was a weak one, though, and Karkat dropped it quickly. “Look, this shit isn’t an exact science. I’m within ten feet of you two idiots, that’s all I can feel right now, but--” A sigh punched out of him, and the bone-fucking-deep weariness he was carrying flashed across his face for just a second. He waved to the north. “He’s… probably that way. Or, that way.” He waved northwest-ish. “It’ll be easier when you guys are out of here. I’ll have a better idea as I get closer.”

Jake, of all people, stepped in, shaking his head head with a deep, angry frown. Dave hadn’t even known he was _capable_ of that kind of face. “So your only totem is other people, and you want us to _leave you here_?”

Karkat grit his teeth. “This is my job, English.”

“Hell with that.” Jake lifted his hands, and _whoa_ , they were glowing. It was bright enough, Dave had to turn his head away, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. “I’m not leaving without Dirk.”

“You’re just making this harder on me,” Karkat snapped.

“Wasn’t meaning for you to stick around.” Rolling his shoulders back, Jake pointed a fingergun at Karkat. It would’ve been silly if he wasn’t _glowing_ , what the christ. “I respect that you’re uniquely suited to all this malarkey, but seeing as we’re in Limbo and I’m the Page of Hope, I wager I have you beat just this once, Mr. Vantas.”

Pages, right. The further into the subconscious they were, the more power they had. Dave shuffled back to Karkat’s side, eyes on the divine fingergun of bullshit. “Jake,” Dave said slowly. “Dude, if this is because what happened…”

“It is,” Jake said, nodding. “I know you blame yourself, but I was the one who got it wrong. If anyone is going to scramble their noggin down in Limbo to recover Dirk, it’s going to be me.”

“English,” Karkat said, voice harder, sounding closer to an order, a command.

“No.” Jake aimed at him again. “I’m doing this. It’s not your mistake to fix.”

“He’s my brother,” Dave said quietly. As Jake’s attention refocused on him, he couldn’t-- it was reflex, ducking a little behind Karkat. God, his brain was all fucked up. Jake was pointing a _finger_ at him, but Dave could feel the tension, like the hammer of a pistol about to slam into metal, the imminent crash, and the urge to flinch was just _hovering_ over him.

“I’ll get him back.”

Karkat shifted, placing himself between Dave and Jake’s glowy hand bullshit. Dave put a hand on his shoulder, like before, like what felt like _weeks_ before. “This is some fucking insubordination,” he groused, a curl of real anger in his voice. “I’m the extractor. It’s my call.”

Jake smiled brilliantly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

* * *

**> [S] Knight of Blood: Rise up.**

 

There were a lot of mistakes littered through Karkat’s life. But the worst ones, really, were the ones he didn’t regret. 

Or, he regretted them. Knew they were bad decisions. Knew he could’ve done things better. But that didn’t stop him from being a self-centered hedonist out for his own fucking gain at the end of the day.

When he left the Project, his dues for all his work, all the experiments, all the blood on his hands, was a permanent Terran residency. He finally had safety from Alternia and its quiet but prized tradition of culling mutants like him. So, Karkat didn’t regret that like he should.

When Dave had kissed him in Boston, all pent up frustration and caliginous intent, Karkat had kissed him back. And he didn’t regret that either.

Now, when Karkat backed down and let Jake English go off on his own, it was a huge mistake. It was selfish fuckery that would haunt Karkat’s dreams if Karkat dreamed anymore.

A week ago, Jade Harley had called Karkat and told him, “No, I don’t need you to run an extraction on Dirk Strider, I need you to _extract Dirk Strider_.” And here, Karkat handed off his _one fucking task_ to someone else so he could stay and get Dave out.

Karkat was well aware he was a piece of shit.

Looking aside at Dave made it hard to regret the choice, though.

“It’s funny,” Dave said quietly as they sat on the edge of the roof, looking down into the thick mist below. “There’s some kind of gas down there. It makes it hard to breathe. So if you _know_ you’re in Limbo, it’s really easy to get out.” He exhaled hard, head hanging, his spine bending into an uncomfortable looking curve. “I just…”

Karkat grimaced and put his hand down against the line of his back, following the bones up and down. “I know.”

“That is so fucking annoying. That you know.” Dave shook his head softly. “You _shouldn’t_ know that I’m fucked up like this. That I’m a coward without Rose to… help. That I can’t do _this_.”

“It’s unfair,” Karkat agreed. He’d dreamed what felt like a million times with by now hundreds of people, was so used to the metal cotton taste that somnacin left in his teeth after waking. But Dave’s mind, the beautiful broken thing it was, and what he’d found in the vaults there, what he hadn’t understood until _today_ , all of it was vivid in his mind, like it’d been shot in HD and played on loop every time he had the audacity to think of Dave Strider.

He leaned in, trying to catch Dave’s eyes. It was easy; Dave gave in and held his gaze without hesitation. Maybe he always did that, and his shades were just meant to hide it. “Even if you hated me,” Karkat said, “I should’ve just failed you. Not… run an extraction on you.”

“I told you to,” Dave pointed out, prodding Karkat’s thigh with his finger. “I was pretty fucking adamant on you _not_ failing me.”

“As if _that_ wasn’t the biggest red flag.” It was hard not to be furious with his past self for it. “If I knew how to forget all of it, I’d do it, Dave, I promise.”

Without his glasses, the way his eyes flicked around Karkat’s face before dropping away was obvious. It was way too compelling, like someone showing their ankle in some human period romance, or a troll wearing their lips the color of their concupiscent partner’s blood. “Uh, when you say _all_ of it…”

Oh. Karkat felt his pulse pick up. This close, he could see the fine brown dots scattered over Dave’s face. He knew there were more elsewhere. “Okay, maybe not all of it,” Karkat murmured, reassured when Dave smiled faintly. “You were gone before I woke up, so I don’t know. It was a weird night.”

“‘Course I left. Coward, remember?”

Karkat elbowed him. “Stop.”

Dave only smiled wider. “Yeah, I… god, I was so fucking _pissed_ at you. You were in my head and you shook out all the drawers and tore up the floorboards and showed me all the loose screws and missing rivets and how I needed to change the smoke alarm-- and then just patched it down.” He let out another deep breath, deflating. When Karkat shifted his hand, curling around his opposite shoulder, Dave went easy, sinking into Karkat’s side.

God, he felt nice this close. Granted _getting_ close was a fucking slog that left Karkat bruised and panting and tired like he’d hiked up a fucking mountain, but it was worth it for this.

“It made me so angry,” Dave said, frowning, sounding unsure of himself. “Like, who the fuck was this, telling me how my subconscious worked?”

“Someone who was trying to keep you safe. It wasn’t a fucking judgement on you.” After a second, he relented: “Well, _that_ wasn’t. Your decision to force your way through the test anyway, that I judged you for. And the bad attitude. And the way you take your coffee.”

“What?” Dave laughed, warm against him. “I like my coffee like I like my trolls--”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Karkat moaned, pained.

“Tall, dark, and sweeter than an agave nectar waterfall.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as dunking your croissant with grubpaste into yours. That’s gross, dude.”

Karkat glanced aside at him. With how much he was leaning on him, it was hard to see more than just the side of Dave’s upturned mouth, his eyelashes flicking as he blinked. “How the hell do you remember that?”

“I _am_ a pointman, asshole.” He jabbed his finger into Karkat’s leg again. Karkat grabbed it, pressing Dave’s hand flat against him, holding him still. “I think it would’ve been easier if you _had_ been a judgy douchebag about it. Everyone said you were a bossy piece of shit, but you were _helping_ and that you even knew I needed help was too fucking much. And then…” He sighed, turned his face further into Karkat, giving the distinct impression he was hiding. “You stopped shouting around me. When you got to the island, you were careful not to let your dishes make a fucking racket in the sink. The number of times that I _saw_ you wanted to lay into me and just beat that shit down… Little things like that.”

Karkat shut his eyes, leaning his head on top of Dave. Yeah, he did that. Because he knew it’d be easier on Dave. Which didn’t make it less of a fucking trespass. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Or, it’s getting okay. I don’t mind you knowing. _Someone_ had to. Who the fuck was I gonna tell? Rose would put me on a therapist’s couch and psychoanalyze me like one of her French girls, and I ain’t never played Doctor with my sis, let alone that kind of Doctor.” He shrugged, shoulder jostling Karkat just a bit. “But that’s _why_ , man, I just… wanted to get under your skin. Like you did mine. It was _supposed_ to be some really awesome cathartic hate sex.” His face went red. “Kinda messed that up too.”

Karkat could remember it in fragments. Dave trying to use his blunt little teeth on Karkat’s skin, and the way he just melted when _Karkat’s_ teeth got involved, how the pitch intentions just slid through his fingers as easily as Dave’s soft human hair.

Yeah. Not the blackest pailing Karkat had ever had.

“Well,” Karkat said, voice tight. “You, uh. Succeeded _there_. Getting under my skin, I mean.”

Dave smiled. “I don’t want to blow your mind or anything, Vantas, but I _kind of_ got that impression.”

**== >**

As much as Karkat wanted to, deep down and privately, they couldn’t sit on that roof forever. Even if Dave looked better, more alert and himself after talking and clinging to Karkat like a particularly stubborn but weirdly attractive parasite, it was still too fucking long to be in Limbo.

After they lapsed into silence, let it spread over them like a heavy blanket, it was Dave to break the quiet. Karkat could feel how Dave hesitated, taking deep breaths to speak only to stop over and over again.

“So are you going to…” He made a face. “Do you have to shoot me? Because I would really, really prefer if that wasn’t a thing right now.”

No shit. The way his entire body went tight and unhappy at the thought made that obvious.

A pointman who couldn’t self-terminate and didn’t have a totem. This time, the thought made Karkat sad instead of setting his blood to boil. He just wanted to get Dave home safe.

An extractor playing favorites. Karkat bit down his grimace and stood, pulling Dave up with him. “No. I wouldn’t pull that on you.”

Instead, he held Dave’s hand tightly in his and led him down the fire escape.

“Oh,” Dave said quietly as they made their way down. “You know, maybe I should hang out here. The view’s nice, you see that storm? It’s a great show, and I’ve got front row seats, seems rude to just throw them away. I can wait for Jane to wake me up, it can’t be that far off. Maybe I’ll chill here, build my own shitty SimCity town. Can’t let Dirk have all the fun.”

At the bottom of the stairs, they flattened out to one last platform. Through the grate floor, smoke billowed and plumed up, wisps reaching up and dissipating as they left the bulk of the smog.

Karkat sat in the corner, using the railing to ease himself down, legs stretched out in front of him.

Dave watched him warily. “Air’s a bit thin down here.”

Karkat beckoned, relieved when Dave let himself be coaxed down. He folded, long legs bending as Karkat guided him with his hands on his waist. “Grabby,” Dave commented, settling practically in his lap.

This close, Karkat could curl his arms fully around Dave and pull him in. “Listen,” he whispered, “you sorry excuse for a dreamer. I’m right here, and we’re going to wake up together. Jake will get Dirk, and Rose will be waiting for you. You can explain all this shit to her.”

Dave snorted, close enough that Karkat felt it against his skin. “Well, damn, in that case, leave me down here.” Despite that, he went easy, face tucked against Karkat’s.

Hands folding around his neck, Karkat murmured, “Shut your eyes.”

“‘Kay.”

For just a moment, Karkat let himself enjoy the feeling, remembering it all over again. Dave had felt nice when he’d been in Karkat’s bed, exhausted to stillness and breathing steadily.

There wasn’t a lot Karkat wouldn’t do for this human. It was a fucking scary thing to realize.

It took no effort to lift the fog up higher around them. Dave’s breath hitched, his heart speeding. Karkat put a hand over his eyes. “It’s okay. It’s just like going to sleep.”

“Why the fuck did I come down here,” Dave whispered.

“Because you care about your family. Even if you don’t fucking communicate with them at all.”

“Are you going to hold that over me forever?”

“Yup,” Karkat said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

Dave laughed, and coughed. His next breath came in shuddering.

Karkat held still, wrapped around Dave, dragging his claw lightly through Dave’s hair, until the rise and fall of his chest evened out. Deep, steady, easy.

Only then did Karkat take a deep breath, and another, and let his arms around Dave go lax. It didn’t hurt at all.

Darkness came, and was a relief.

* * *

**> [S] Rogue of Void: Descend.**

 

With his leg fucked, AR wasn’t getting away again. 

Roxy grinned with dark satisfaction as she jumped over the last few paths, cheating her way right over to the trail of blood her quarry was leaving behind. She found the right spot in the maze, and dropped down onto the glowing floor again, landing in a crouch and hopping back to her feet.

She didn’t want to rush things. Maybe she could put her boot down against ARs leg and dig in. It’d be the least he deserved for stabbing Dirk, for tricking him, for the however long war he’d been waging on Dirk’s mind.

Roxy liked to think she was a laid back gal. But heaven help you if you harmed one of her family. Especially Dirk.

But the boys in Limbo needed her to end this quickly.

She turned the corner, ready to dispense one good one-liner and shoot AR right in the stolen shades.

The Auto-Responder was a mean-spirited bastard. It’d been a while since Roxy had dreamed with him, and she sort of forgot. Dirk had taught him many things. Survival. Cunning. Being a pragmatic menace who probably needed to be put down years ago.

In her haste to reach him, Roxy took the last corner separating them narrowly. It was a step right into AR’s range.

From where he’d finally slumped, AR had stretched, twisting his torso to lean against wall near that corner. One hand planted firmly on the floor below him, his other held his sword tightly in hand.

As soon as Roxy saw him, she watched him slam his hand forward.

The sword pushed into her side, and right through.

 _Shit_ , Roxy thought, staggering backward on a breathless cry. The sword, poking through her, hit the wall behind before she did, and pushed free. She let out a hoarse scream at the white hot pain. Oh _fuck_ , that was bad, that hurt a lot.

 _Roxy! Oh god, Roxy, no!_ Calliope gasped.

Roxy pressed her hand over the wound in the front of her gut. Hot blood seeped through, and nausea rose up in her throat. As she did, the pain intensified, a lancing fucking agony that spiked every time she took a breath.

The floor under her feet flickered, like an old house in a storm. The light was there, gone, then back again. There was something _wrong_ with how the dreamscape blinked around her, like it was moving in and out of existence.

AR grinned with teeth. “That was one hell of a show, Roxy. Had me worried for a moment. But as talented as you are…” He shook his head, tsking. “I’m not ready to die.”

Roxy’s lip curled in disgust. “And you decided Dirk _is_?” she spat, and returned her hand to her rifle.

It hurt. It hurt more than Roxy would have imagined, and with every throb and shuddering ache, she felt the world around them like a phantom limb. It flickered again, nothingness spiraling out from her feet like a ripple before flashing back into place a little worse for wear. The floor was becoming unseated; instead of one long unbroken walkway of light, it was shifting and tilting, revealing the darkness between each huge tile like abyssal mortar. Even the walls were swaying drunkenly.

“That is my cue. Maybe I’ll see you next time. Probably not, though.” AR smirked and rolled. His leg was still fucked, but he moved without a trace of pain along the shifting floor. As the world wobbled and shook, the gaps in the foundation widened.

The tile he was on shifted with his weight, and AR let himself drop between it and the next, vanishing into the black.

“Th-the fuck, _what_?” Roxy gasped.

_He’s… below the dream? It-- it’s starting to collapse. Oh god, what do we do, he’s in the Void, I don’t know…_

The Void. Roxy hauled herself upright, leaning on her rifle and pushing off the wall. It was like standing on a ship in rough waters, and she didn’t have her sea legs.

Driving her heel down against the floor, Roxy grunted in pain from the impact. Then she did it again, nearly biting through her lip as the throbbing in her chest continued to spread until she felt like one big walking wound.

It was worth it. After a moment’s struggle, a panel fell away, collapsing into the nothingness below, the neon light winking out.

Resettling her rifle against her shoulder, Roxy jumped into the Void, and fell.

It was skydiving, but without the parachute and visual references around, without even the illusion of control. The bleak, blank darkness swallowed her; only her hair whipping up, her clothes fluttering against atmosphere let her know she was moving at all.

Her hands were red as she steadied her rifle. Leaning forward, she let her body turn, falling belly first. The pressure against her stab wound hurt, and she squinted through the pain.

 _I can’t find him. You’re falling away from the dream, I can’t see you in the Void. Roxy…_ Her voice shook with fear and worry.

Roxy grit her teeth. “I’ve got this, Calliope. I’ve _got_ this.”

_But if you fall into Limbo…_

“I’ll put him down _first_.” She took a breath, biting down the urge to yelp at the pain even _that_ caused her. “You get out. You wake up _everyone_. Leave the sweet revenge to me.”

_But, Roxy!_

“I’ll come back to you.” She grinned, tasting copper. “Lalondes ain’t afraid of the dark.”

The dreamscape was long gone, above her head. Around her, she could feel the unconcerned emptiness. As she fell further and further, something in her sharpened, honed by the apathetic Void rushing by.

 _Okay_ , she thought. _Rogue of Void._ She shut her eyes and aimed her rifle, lowering her head until she felt the scope against her eye.

(Years ago, “The fresh hell does that mean?” Roxy had asked Dirk, her legs stretched over his, his laptop settled on top of their collective laps.

He’d clicked around the certification Porrim had given Roxy. “If I know my bullshit dream symbology, and by now I know this shit so well, I’m waiting for the honorary Dream Symbology PhD from UT to arrive in my mailbox, a Rogue of Void steals the nothingness.”

Roxy had snorted. “What, so am I… destined to be the _worst_ thief in the business? I can’t steal anything? What a shitty class. I want my money back.”

Dirk had smiled faintly. “Nah, this is way more interesting. It’s so esoteric, it’s got Danielewski begging to write a novel about it. Shyamalan wants to do the movie, and the soundtrack is gonna be nothing but prog rock and tasteful remixes of goats bleating. You _steal the nothingness_. You remove the Void in things.”

“Just admit,” Roxy had said, throwing her head back against the arm of the sofa, “that you’re full of shit and don’t know what you’re talking about.”

At the time, Dirk had chuckled. “You can also go invisible.”

“That’s better. Knew you were talking shit,” she’d said, and poked him in the cheek with her big toe.)

Now, Roxy thought back to every time the dream had bent to her will, how long hallways neatly cut themselves down, the miles folded down to pinpricks. She was the Tesseract, Mrs. Which with a bolt-action sniper rifle, and the Man with Red Eyes was going _down_.

With a whisper of effort, Roxy stole the Void out from between her and her target.

She opened her eye, and through her scope saw AR below her.

Smiling, she held steady. “Five. Four. Three. Two.”

* * *

**> [S] Page of Hope: Unite.**

 

Wandering through Limbo alone was a eerie, strange journey. It was unending and grand in a horrible way, the cold cement buildings in rows like headstones and the sky alight above them. Karkat had given him a direction, and Jake followed it, but it was… something terrifying in a silent empty way, how nothing _changed_. Jake could only assume he’d eventually stumble upon something to indicate Dirk’s presence. 

Nothing changed, and Jake kept walking.

Deep down, he was afraid of the isolation, of having chosen to forge on alone. Time was passing, but he had no way to know how much. He was travelling, but had no way to know how far. He expected some dark thoughts to wrap their tawdy hands around his heart and mind, and squeeze.

But Jake carved a golden swath through Dirk’s dour poison world, determined to find his wayward friend.

Still. It was taking a _dog’s age_.

He had to take breaks. He didn’t need to _sleep_ it seemed (which made sense, what would even lurk in a dreamer’s mind if they took a kip in Limbo?) but rest was needed. And his feet started to hurt, as awful and pedestrian that seemed.

Pedestrian. Ha. If only someone were around to enjoy his great sense of humor.

“Oh, I think that’s a perfect opportunity to interrupt!” A voice said from behind him, bright and friendly. “These things are really all about timing.”

Jake startled so badly, he nearly fell off the edge of the roof, arms pinwheeling dramatically. As he teetered forward, balance demolished from the blunt force trauma of surprise, things… slowed. He could look down and see himself starting to fall.

A hand grasped the back of his jacket and _yanked_. Instead of careening off, down into the smog below, he fell backward, landing with a grunt onto his arse.

“Oh, well, that! That just happened.” A troll woman was standing over him, smiling beatifically. She had truly impressive winged red eyeliner, a verifiable avalanche of loosely curled hair, and a hefty set of ridged, curled horns. Around her neck hung one of those ball chains, a steel curved ‘V’ swinging as she leaned over him.

“Uh,” Jake said, staring. “Hi? What. Who are you then?”

“I’m Aradia.” For a moment, she said nothing further, smile unmoving in a way that somehow didn’t look too forced. “This, I think, is where you return the favor and introduce yourself? Do humans do that differently? I didn’t have a lot of experience with them.”

“Oh, forgive me, sitting here with my mouth agape like a caught fish. I’m Jake English, how do you do? Are you… that’s to say, are you real?”

He reached up, rubbing at his skull necklace, at the reassuring weight of it.

“‘Real’ is kind of a limited descriptor. To even use it, we’d have to have such a long discussion about the nature of observation and consciousness and individual existence.” She laughed, like all that was a funny bit of japery. “I mean, look where you are!”

“I’m dreaming,” Jake said. “Ergo… not real?”

“That is definitely open for debate, especially given the duality of your existence as dreamer and member of the waking world. Which, point of interest, I don’t share.” She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

“I was really considering it. This is a lot to absorb and I’ve had a very long day.” Still, it would be rude not to accept the offer. He let her haul him upright again. She was about a head shorter than him, but seemed taller regardless. Maybe it was the horns. The horns had presence. “So, erm. Aradia.”

“Jake,” she said, eyebrows lifted.

“I’m a bit in the tall grass here so I hope you’ll forgive what might be a potentially prying question.”

She crossed her arms, shifting her feet to shoulder-width apart. “I am braced and ready.”

“What… are you? Or, let me elaborate first to ensure we don’t end up on some hugely tangential path.” He pointed to the ground around them. “I’m… in Limbo.”

“Yes,” she confirmed brightly.

“I’m part of a dream that includes several humans I’m familiar with and a few trolls I’m… not _familiar_ with, but I know them.”

“Yes.”

“Which by process of elimination would make you…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “This doesn’t make any sense. If you’re a shade, you must be… Dirk’s? Because by now Karkat and Dave should’ve left. And I know you’re not mine.”

“Not yes,” she said. “Sorry, you were doing very well there for a moment. But if _shade_ is the word you want to use for me, then I am your shade. And Dirk’s.” She hooked both thumbs over her shoulders. “By the way, we want to go this way.”

“Do we?”

“You want to find Dirk, don’t you? Well, the way you were headed, you’d miss him and wouldn’t even know!”

“This is the way Karkat told me to go, though,” Jake said, suspicious.

“Actually you’ve been walking for days now and have diverged from that path. I’m just trying to help you along.” She was _still_ smiling. It was a little unsettling. “You don’t want to stay here. Which is a shame, because it’s great, but you’ll never leave if you keep going the way you were.”

“And are you another helpful shade? Is that what’s happening? Who’s-- you can’t be mine, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m my own person, thank you,” Aradia said, a little sharper. “Fine. I _was_ originally in Karkat and Terezi’s subconscious. But you’ve had me relaxing in your brain’s cellar for a long time. Most professional dreamers have, now.” She twirled her wrist, coaxing Jake along as she reached out.

The building they were on shrank under their feet, down, down, down to street level. Jake gasped, stepped back as the thick gas flowed in, ready to spread its deadly grasp over the new space.

Aradia leaned forward and blew out a breath. It cut through the smog, sweeping it away, leaving an open, safe path ahead. It still smelled tinny and strange down here, but Jake cautiously took a few lungfuls of air. It seemed fine.

“I like it here, in Limbo,” Aradia went on, leading the way along the new path. Jake hurried to follow on her heels, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake in being diverted. “But it’s a little different for everyone else, I think, and the people who fall down here need… a guide! Don’t you think?”

“How did a shade like you get in my head? I’m sorry, I’m fixating on that, maybe, but I was certified shade-free by Kanaya years ago.”

“That is actually when we met! Or, I met you. You weren’t conscious of the process,” Aradia said. As Jake stepped up to her side, she smiled and linked her arm through his. “See, Karkat dreamed with Kanaya, and you dreamed with Kanaya! And you’ve dreamed with a few dozen people in turn.”

This was starting to sound a little preposterous. “So you’re… a migrating shade? This sounds like one of the hackeyed computer virus things!”

“I don’t like being called a virus, but I suppose if that’s what helps you understand, I can’t fault you there.”

Bulb, meet light switch. “You’re one of the Twelve. Were one of them. Are? By gum, I have no idea what words to use here.”

“Aries, at your service.” She beamed, the brightness in her dark red eyes clear. “Tenses don’t really matter. I’m here with you in this moment to make sure you reach your destination. You need to get a move on. Even with the time dilation down here.” She shook her head. “You don’t want to risk being in Limbo when the dream ends.”

 _Aradia never woke up_ , Karkat had said. Jake’s mouth went dry. “Or I’ll… wind up like you?”

“Oh, I wish. That doesn’t happen, really.” She ducked her head, eyes on the paving stones ahead of them. “If that was the case, I would have a lot more friends down here. Though, maybe I just haven’t searched far enough! Limbo is very big.”

“Of course,” Jake murmured. He had _no idea_.

“You need to make some better time to Dirk. He really needs help. But luckily for _you_ , I’m a Time dreamer! Like your friend Dave.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I could start counting, prove it to you. Do you think that would startle Dirk?”

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea? Especially if the poor chap’s in a bad state already?” She nodded along, to his relief. “But… Time dreamer?”

“A Maid of Time. I’ve got this, don’t worry.” She looked up at him, and Jake learned that trolls could have dimples. They were different, three divots in a neat line down the side of the face, framing the mouth, but they were unmistakeably. “Just don’t let go.”

When Jake looked around, he found they were moving much faster than it seemed. Or, the world was moving around them. It was like running on one of those motorized walkways at the airport, including the weird sideways vertigo that went with it. There were no railings to hold onto, so he leaned into Aradia’s grip.

And she smiled, and smiled, and smiled.

**== >**

If Jake had been losing track of things before, walking with Aradia just threw his internal clock out of a forty storey window and out onto the street. He had _no idea_ how it worked.

He could’ve asked her. She would know how much time had passed. But there was something to her, a discordant jazzed mania to her that made him worry. Not as much as the looming prospect of running out of time worried him, though. It was a dodgy mess of sorting out what to do in a place where he was totally out of his depths.

At least he wasn’t alone. That might’ve made him susceptible to the troll shade and her easy warmth.

Why had he left on this arduous task all on his lonesome? Well, _besides_ the obvious ‘it’s the right thing to do.’

Jake had never spent much time with Dave, but knew that Dirk loved his little brother desperately, even if he struggled to show it sometimes. It was an intense outpouring of emotion, one Jake barely _fathomed_ , and now wondered if somehow it had saturated Jake, like rain water in his boots, transferring the need to protect the family to him. Letting Dave stick around in Limbo hadn’t been an option.

“Are we close?” Jake asked.

“Closer than we were,” Aradia replied. Jake didn’t know why he expected a straight answer from an impossible shade. “It’s almost time to let you go. I can’t get too close to him.”

“You can’t?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to! I think if anyone had a chance to stick around down here with me, it’s the Prince of Heart. But,” she shook her head. “You’ll have to make the last of the journey by yourself.”

Aradia hopped ahead of him, turning to face Jake. She held out both her hands, fingers waggling. Hesitantly, Jake took them both; her grasp was strong and steady. Thank goodness for that, since she jumped into the air, then just forgot to come back down.

Aradia floated up, and Jake yelped as he was lifted off his feet with her. His legs kicked as he tried to catch the edge of something for leverage. Above him, she laughed. “Just a sec, don’t freak out!”

“Oh, sure, brilliant!” Jake snapped. “This is positively pluperfect! Absolutely fine!”

She laughed, lifting them both above the street, the smog rolling in to take their place below, and up onto one of the grey buildings again. As soon as Jake’s feet were on the ground, he let go of her, throwing out his hands to wobble back towards balance. “How did you do that?”

“If you spent centuries in Limbo, you’d know how too,” Aradia said.

 _Centuries_. That… Jake couldn’t think about that, because it lead to thinking about being stuck here himself, or Dirk being stuck here. Dirk had already been here entirely too long, and Karkat had been concerned about Dave after his comparatively short time in Limbo.

Jake rolled his shoulders back, shaking the unhappy, jittery feeling out of his arms with a brisk shake. “Right. Where is he?”

Aradia turned, and pointed. “Look at the horizon.”

Jake did, squinting. It was difficult to make out until the sky lit up with some errant lightning flashes. Far in the distances, there was something. Something taller than the rest of the city line. It was the only incongruous piece of the world he’d yet seen, and his chest ached, knowing Dirk must’ve been there.

Ruler of a dead world. Jake wished it didn’t make a horrible amount of sense.

Aradia tipped her head to the side, humming softly. When Jake shot her a confused look, she just said, “You’re nervous.”

“I’ve been nervous for about three weeks now,” Jake pointed out.

“What are you scared of?” Aradia opened her arms, encompassing everything around them in a single gesture. “There is nothing here to fear. You know you’re dreaming. You can leave anytime.”

“Yes, but…” He took a shuddering breath. “So I have to make this part of the journey alone… but I don’t know what’s waiting for me over there.” He wrapped his arms around himself, holding her gaze. Aradia had a lovely face. If she emoted at all beyond her smile, it would have been comforting. “It was never supposed to be me doing this. Everyone made it really bloody obvious they didn’t want me on this team. Now I’m wondering if they were right.”

“You know Dirk,” Aradia said. “You were human matesprits.”

“Yes, for all the insight _that_ apparently affords,” Jake grumbled, lemon sour. “Sometimes I wonder if the Dirk I knew was different from the man everyone else seemed to know. Yes, he’s a _Strider_ , he’s famous, he can do this and that and half dozen of the other. But…

“Is the Dirk I know the real one, or the one that Roxy’s so besotted with? That Jane cares about more than me? The one Dave looks up to?” Jake sighed hard. “You know what _I_ remember about Dirk? I remember a bloke who heard he was the smartest guy in every room so much that I--I think he got scared to make even the smallest mistake. This whole Auto-Responder thing started as an experiment, and of _course_ it got out of control because the idea that Dirk didn’t have a handle on it was a foreign country to him!”

Her smile didn’t vanish, but it faded for just a second. “So you think this was his fault?”

“Of course not, that’s not the point.” Jake pointed to the tower on the horizon. “My point is that I-- that Dirk and I _were_ matesprits or what-have-you, and now we’re not, and yet I’m the one here to get him out. Not Roxy, not Jane, not Dave, but _me_!” He lowered his hand and his voice, sighing. “Me. Jake bloody English. I’m nobody, and now I have to extract someone from Limbo. I’m not even an extractor! I-- christ almighty, I’m the one who got him stuck here.”

“And you’re here to take him home,” Aradia said kindly. “That counts for something. Or, I think it does.”

“But what if it wasn’t supposed to be me?” Jake dug his hands into his hair. “You don’t understand, the way he works. It’s like everything with him is a puzzle, or a-- an equation, and you have to get it right or he’ll lock off. Or, balls, maybe I just never understood him.” He tugged at his fringe, wincing at the feeling, the twinge. “Maybe it was always me.”

Aradia shook her head, something sad and candid in her expression. She reached out, tapped two fingers sharply against Jake’s head. “You have to stop this. This is how people get stuck here. The indecision. You’re in a world where everything can change, and you get stuck thinking nothing can.

“In the end,” Aradia said, something devilish in her grin, “You’re the Page of Hope, and you’re in Limbo, and what you say _goes_.”

That… was something to keep in mind.

At least at this distance, it was still hypothetical. At least from here, Jake could say he was still on his adventure, traversing a dangerous land for the promise of something better. In a way, Jake wanted to just walk forever, and leave the real challenge for someone.

If the feeling in his chest right now, if that was the most hope this place had, then they were all in dire bloody straights.

“Okay,” Jake said quietly. “I mean, I’ve no choice. It _has_ to be me.”

Aradia nodded solemnly.

“And this is as far as you’ll take me? Well, thank you.” He made himself smile, just a little. He had the feeling it looked horrible and false on his face. “I’m not sure where this is going, but I appreciate the help nonetheless.”

“I appreciate the company,” Aradia said, dimpling again. “Good luck. Be kind to him, if you can. And…” Something flickered in her eyes, and for once, Jake felt like she was truly looking at him, not dreamily in his approximate direction. There was an alertness in her face he’d not seen before. “Tell Karkat it wasn’t his fault. He won’t believe you, but he should hear it. And that I’d love to see them again, if they can ever make the journey down here. And tell Terezi that if she’s not careful, Vriska’s going to infect other dreamers. And that I’d like to see Sollux again, please.”

“Oh. I… I will. All that.” Jake offered her a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Aradia. Just wish it’d been under better circs.”

She inclined her head. “I can only control the time, not the place. But I understand. Now go.”

As Jake turned his back and walked away from her, he couldn’t resist the urge to look back. It was hard to determine if she’d even been _real_ , and he feared she would vanish the moment he stopped looking at her. There was something to be said, he thought, about observation and its effect on reality. Something Dirk probably would’ve said, if Jake asked about it.

Each time he looked back, she was still there, sitting on the edge of a roof. And then, she was too far to see, and Jake stopped looking.

**== >**

The tower only differed from the rest of the landscape in terms of height. It was still a concrete rectangle amid a sea of them, but it was thrice as long as its fellows, looming over Jake as he forged his path to it.

It also had no windows. No fire escape, so no method of entry. It was just big and polygonal, giving Jake the same uncomfortable feeling he remembered from that Kubrick film with the monolith. Something uncomfortable wanted to crawl up his spine and into his hindbrain.

By now, crafting the world was second nature to him, thoughtless and fluid in a way so few things in the dream ever were. When there was no other way to climb to tower, Jake spun a glass elevator from his hands, fixing it to the dull grey wall. Stepping inside, the platform under his feet slid smoothly upward.

If Jake took the opportunity to tug his shirt straight and smooth his hair out of his face, no one was around to see it.

He’d expected the rooftop to be different somehow. This was his final destination, and he’d fought through three levels of dreaming and the untamed expanse of Limbo to get here. There was meant to be a crystal skull or a vista view of a fancy tree or something here. Maybe just a breezeblock throne for the Prince.

But it was another rooftop, and Dirk Strider sat on the metal brace of a smudged, opaque skylight. His spine was bent forward, his arms draped over his knees. It was a familiar sight; Jake had more than once woke up to see Dirk curled up like that on the far side of the bed. A dozen times in that hot apartment, Jake had watched, squinting without the help of his glasses, too nervous to put them on and risk breaking Dirk’s strange moments of contemplation.

The force of the memory washed over Jake. Suddenly, he was back there again, and could barely breathe, unwilling to bridge that chasm.

Dirk had always felt so far away. He’d always been a long distance phone call.

He didn’t have time to stand there and stare at Dirk’s spine. He stepped off his little elevator, his boots crunching in the loose rocks on the roof.

He could see how long it took for the sound to register with Dirk. It was an echo of Dave, before, the way Jake could _watch_ as Dirk remembered how to respond to things around him again.

When Dirk moved, Jake nearly expected his joints to creak with rust and disuse. His eyes were amber, tarnished and dull as he blinked slowly, looking at Jake with no expression on his face.

Lightning flashed in the distance, silent light.

“Of all the rooftops on all the buildings in the world,” Dirk said, voice croaking slightly, all the honey gone from his drawl, “he walks onto mine.”

He didn’t make any attempt to move, but to shift to face Jake. He had a cig between two fingers, and exhaled more eerie clouds up into the sky.

Jake made his legs move, crossing the distance between them with awkward steps, like he’d forgotten how walking worked. “Dirk. It’s… good to see you.”

“Sure,” Dirk said, and his face was as devoid and cold as before, but there was the slightly lilt, something bitter in his voice. “What’s the tale, nightingale, are you here to finish it? Can’t really fault the casting choice here.”

“Finish it?” Jake already didn’t like this. When Dirk got an idea in his head, it was damned hard to pry it free again. Dirk always assumed he knew best. “Erm, that depends on what you’re thinking of as _it_ in this particular context.”

“Yours truly. Don’t be obtuse, man, you’re smarter than that.” A smile appeared on his face like a rip in paper. “What’ve you got for me, handsome?”

The dread in Jake’s gut was drowned in nostalgia. It’d been _years_ since Dirk had called him that, and it stung to hear. If anything made it clear that Dirk didn’t know what was happening, it was that simple warm appellation.

That and how Dirk looked at him, like he looked at projections, like Jake wasn’t there.

Nostalgia was a terrible mistress.

Jake sat across from Dirk, on the edge of the next set of skylights. “Dirk. Where do you think you are? What happened here?”

“I thought I could control him. I really did. I thought I knew better than everyone.” Dirk sighed quietly. “I never bothered getting certified, because who knew my head better than me?” He tilted his head, still not quite looking _at_ Jake, only toward him. “Or, that’s the excuse. One of them, I’m fuckin’ _made_ of excuses. Excuses and bad ideas and just enough information to be dangerous. Vantas would’ve taken one look in my head and failed me.”

He put his cigarette to his lips, and inhaled, the ashen tip glowing in the pale poison light. “And like every sorry son of a bitch who thinks they’re the lead in their own sad story, I was wrong. What a plot twist. No one saw _that_ comin’.”

By god, but Dirk could go on and dance around a point until his legs fell off. Jake bit his lip, steeling his nerves with a deep breath before trying again: “Dirk, what _happened_?”

“For a figment of my fragmented psyche, you’re ill-informed, bro.” He waved a hand to the world around them. “I let AR get too strong. Convinced myself that even if he was obviously going batshit evil that I _owed_ him the chance at life. Because I guess I internalized that sanctity of life bullshit when I was young and it got itself some Asimov and mutated into this _disastrous_ fuckin’ idea that AR’s life was more important than his murdery tendencies.” He nodded to the sky. “And this is what he did. What I did. I mean, I built him out of myself, so let’s call a spade a spade here.”

It had already been easy to cast this world as a reflection of Dirk. As a reflection of the Auto-Responder was even easier.

Jake had only met AR once. It’d been early on, while Dirk was still creating the damnable creature in the vaults of his own head. Jake had found Dirk attached to a PASIV, alone, and gotten curious.

Dirk never invited Jake to dream with him, and Jake had wanted that part of him, wanted to share it.

Remembering that made Jake burn with shame.

That one little jaunt into Dirk’s brain had been a wreck, culminating with Dirk saving him from the feral shade-thing in his dream before judiciously ending the dream with his own sword. It’d been hard, and carelessly gruesome.

Jake still wondered if Dirk just didn’t _care_ about his adroit, dramatic self-terminations, or if maybe it was some weird punishment. And then, if it was his punishment or Dirk’s. Either way, it’d haunted him for years.

Afterward, there’d been no new trust or affection to be found. Dirk had given Jake such a tongue-lashing for what he’d done, and even then Jake could hear the manic fear under the anger. It was the same tremble Jake heard when Dirk mumbled fitfully in his sleep, when he listened and did nothing because why would Dirk was _Jake’s_ help?

As far as first impressions of AR went, it was an unshakeable one. A small part of Jake felt vindicated to see that AR wound up being such bad news. And another part of him felt sick with himself for that.

Dirk had always tied Jake up into knots.

Jake leaned forward and took Dirk’s free hand in his own. It was bold enough that Dirk froze in surprise, cigarette halfway to his mouth. His hand was familiar and rough under Jake’s fingers. He rubbed against the hard edges like they were a totem. “Listen to me, old boy. AR hasn’t torn himself loose of you yet. Granted, he’s made a damned cunning dash for the door, but you stopped him. You called Jane for help, and we all came to help you.” He leaned forward, holding Dirk’s eyes like one of those orange lifesavers out in the middle of the ocean. “Do you remember?”

“You?” Dirk smirked, horrible and mean in that way that seemed to be second nature to him. “This is so fucking like me. I’m finally cracking up, so I dreamt you up to make me feel better. _You_ , ha.”

Jake frowned, hurt. “Yes, bloody well _me_ , is that so farfetched?”

“After how I fucked up with you? Yeah, it’s kind of hard to believe, bro.” He shrugged one shoulder, gaze slipping away from Jake’s face. “There’s no amount of suspended disbelief that’s enough for me to see this as anything but the fucked up masturbatory fantasy it is.”

His hand lifted again, and Jake reached out, snatching the little cancer stick out of his hand and throwing it. “Stop it. Stop looking through me and _listen_ , Dirk, you self-sacrificial bastard. Of _course_ I came back for you. I-- I care about you. We all do.” He grabbed Dirk’s other hand in his, holding them both tightly. He imagined light was beginning to stir where his fingers grasped Dirk, but refused to break eye contact long enough to check. “You won’t _believe_ the things we’ve done to try and reach you. When you wake up, you’re going to feel like a right idiot, but you’ve got to _wake up first._ ”

“Waking up,” Dirk said, and gave a knowing look to Jake’s holster, the one that still carried one of his pistols. “It’ll be just that easy, huh? I _wake up_ , and all this goes away?” He sighed. “No. I refuse. I need to see this out, to see what I’ve created through to the end, and I’m not letting my-- my _subconscious_ give me an out.”

With one forceful shake, Dirk knocked Jake’s grip on him loose and stood. From his pocket, he pulled out his battered, worn little pack of cigarettes and turned away to light a new one.

He looked comfortable like that, breathing out smog and giving bedroom eyes to his own personal little hell.

It was infuriating, and Jake had had enough. Bouncing up, Jake stalked off after him as Dirk dared to turn his back, to walk away. “Dirk Strider, you are going to stop wallowing about this rooftop like a depressed alley cat and you are going to wake up with me. I am _not_ leaving you to rot in Limbo.”

Dirk pivoted on his heel, and the smug apathetic arsehole breathed smoke into Jake’s face. “Sorry, Jake. It ain’t penance if I take the easy way out.”

“Dirk,” Jake said, a warning curling in his mouth.

“What are you here for, Jake?” Dirk asked.

“I’m here for _you_. I’m here to save you, you _arsehole,_ ” Jake snapped. He lifted his hand, gold light circling his fingers. “And after all the complete and utter bollocks we’ve gone through to get here, you call it the _easy way out?_ ” Jake’s lip curled, so angry he thought he’d boil over. “For _once_ you are going to take me seriously. For once you are going to have to trust me, because you and I-- we are getting out of here and surviving this, because I _said so_!”

It felt like the wind up had been years in the making, so much affection and confusion and attraction and desperation building up to this one exquisite moment when he finally slapped Dirk across his perfect chiseled bloody jaw.

And in a way, it wasn’t really _that_ satisfying, because he barely felt the impact. As his palm struck, light cascaded into Dirk’s body, transference by touch. It was a brilliant thunderclap of light in the shape of a long angular man, and as it dissolved, it left no trace behind but the afterimage of where he’d been standing behind Jake’s eyelids.

Arm awkwardly swinging to a halt, Jake stood there, staring at where Dirk had been.

 _Had_ been.

Jake lowered his hand, shaking. “Holy toledo. I did it. I did it?” A tired, almost delirious laugh jostled out of him. “I did it. Oh, wow.”

The relief was an intense headrush, making the world spin a little as the reality of things settled on him. There was gold in his hands, woven around his wrists, up to his elbows and flowing further. The gentle warmth of it was permeating, like a nice cognac after a long day out.

Jake’s knees felt weak.

Turning out, Jake looked at the world Dirk had left in his wake. The glum, sorrowful state it was in. So much self-loathing and obsession. And Jake decided _that would not stand._

The gold light enveloped his shoulders, stitched painlessly across his collarbone, and ran in molten rivulets down his chest. Even without looking at it directly, it was becoming hard to see through the sheer ambient radiance of it. He squinted, face pulled into a weird expression of pained happiness, his head spinning and face hurting from the force of his grin.

He’d _done it_.

Around him, the concrete and metal crumbled, the destitute world coming apart into fine sand. He could feel every granule of it, lovely and bright, like the landscape was just as relieved as he was to be away from all that sadness.

It all fell to sand, the cityscape falling into a glittering yellow desert beneath him. Only a few ruins stood, remnants of what came before, like solemn curiosities for future treasure hunters and archaeologists to find and wonder over, to wonder at a world what wasn’t full of hope.

The greeny-sick clouds put away their tense lightning and shifted into grey, fluffy things. _Proper_ clouds, susurrus of cirrus and stratocumulus opening to finally let rain pour down like a white-knuckled grip finally releasing. Cool, clean water ran down Jake’s face, to the ground below, filling in oceans as he hovered above it all.

For one glorious moment, Jake could do _anything_.

Limbo, John had written in one of his papers, was built from the every dreamer who touched it, shared among their overlapping subconsciouses. When they separated, they brought it all with them, carried its weight.

Well, Jake wasn’t going to leave a dead, dreary thing to linger in his friends’ dreams.

The endless horizon of light was broken by a familiar troll woman flying to his side, smiling.

“All right, Jake,” Aradia said. “As nice as this is-- and it definitely is!-- it’s time for you to go.”

He was having such fun, letting all of this pure creation and joy roll out of him like tides… but she was right. Jake lowered his hands, nodded. “Right. Time to wake up.” He returned her smile. “Nice meeting you, Aradia.”

She waved her fingers. “Until next time.”

She reached out, and flicked one clawed fingertip against Jake’s forehead, and Jake fell, fell up into the sky.

* * *

 

**> [S] Collapse.**

 

The silence of the safe room shattered as Karkat and Dave woke in their chairs.

Kanaya stiffened for just a moment, the shock of tension grabbing her, then letting go just as quickly as she looked them both over.

Dave rolled onto his side, heedless of the awkward tug of his IV, gasping shallowly and curling, making no movement to get up. He bent, curled like a comma, nothing more.

Karkat sat up, or tried to; his claws scraped against the arm of his chair before he slipped, slumping back again and taking gulps of air. “Kan’ya,” he managed, voice weak.

She was at his side in a second, hand on his shoulder. “I’m here, Karkat.”

His entire chest moved as he sucked in a deep breath. “Limbo,” he said, ragged. “Boot ‘em.”

To her credit, she only inhaled sharply, worried, before letting go of him. Turning to the remaining dreamers, she reached out. Fingers curling, Kanaya seized gravity by its throat.

**== >**

“One,” Roxy said as she descended. The word sighed out, slow and steady and practiced. Her aim stilled, and she pulled the trigger.

There quick _crack_ of the gunshot was there for just a second before it was swallowed by the Void. It was the only sound as the shade below her jerked and faded from her view.

Everything else began to fade too. Roxy let go of her rifle, relief as her muscles relaxed, and fell down, down, down.

**== >**

Calliope jerked upright in Level One with a sharp yelp. Oh blimey, it was _bright_ back up here, she’d forgotten what _light_ had looked like after following Roxy so deep into the Void.

She looked up, forcing herself to ignore how her eyes were prickling. Jade spun around to stare at her, and Rose looked up from where she sat vigil over Dave’s slumbering body.

“Oh,” Rose said, multitudes in a single syllable.

“Limbo emergency,” Calliope explained shortly. “Kick them all, now, please!”

She wanted to tell them everything, about losing Dirk, then Dave, then the world breaking down, and how it’d just gone so thoroughly wrong. But there was no time; Jade’s eyes hardened with a curt nod, and she turned, lifted the chairs.

Calliope turned to meet Rose’s gaze.

She didn’t know how to ask, but Rose was an exceedingly clever girl and just _knew_ , it seemed. She pulled her gun, and aimed. “Shut your eyes.”

Calliope slammed them shut just in time to hear the gunshot.

**== >**

Roxy was falling, through sunlight, through rain that glittered as it streaked down her arms and faces, that glowed as it soaked her shirt. It was warm and springtime, and below her was cerulean water. She let out a whoop, pointed her toes, and held her nose as the ocean rose up to meet her.

**== >**

Everyone had been right; it didn’t hurt at all. There was just a jostle, and Calliope felt the dream slip from her grasp.

There was no time to revel in being awake and there was no elegance in how Calliope waved her arms, struggling to sit up and get someone’s attention. Even if waking was easy, she’d been gone for _hours_.

A hand braced her shoulder, helping her upright, and she gasped. “Oh, god, again--?” She moaned, her other hand lifting to scrape down her hard green skin. “Wake everyone! Limbo emergency, they’re doing a kick now!”

Everything was a blur, her heart pounding. She focused on Jane, as she flipped a switch on the MASIV. The infusion button shifted from green to blue. “Take out her IV!”

Calliope looked frantically down at her arms, couldn’t even remember which one had the IV. But John was already there, holding her. His fingers pressed to her skin, against where the needle was pressed into her vein, and he applied pressure as he pulled it out. “She’s good, go!” he called.

**== >**

Dave lifted his head as everything around him came unhooked, as something like vertigo dug its nails into his gut. He looked at Kanaya, and understood. “Shit, this is gonna hurt.”

“Yes, it will. Sorry,” Kanaya said, before closing her eyes and _flipping_ gravity on its axis.

Karkat didn’t even have time to curse as his chair fell up to the ceiling, just balled himself up, wrapping his hands around his neck.

Across the room, Roxy gasped audibly as she was jolted awake. There was nothing else to hear over the chaos and sound.

Level three, dropped.

**== >**

Rose stood back and watched as Dave, Karkat, Roxy, Jake, and Dirk’s chairs floated up to the ceiling. On the other side of the room, Terezi finally unfolded from her tense, unhappy ball to watch.

Jade swung her arms down, and the chairs plummeted ten feet before stopping cold two inches above the ground.

Level two, dropped.

Roxy was the first to really move. As the others lay in their chairs, blinking awake and shielding their eyes, she pushed on. She was on her feet in a second, then on her knees as her feet decided not to hold her up.

From her position on the floor next to her chair, Roxy lifted her head, and stared at Dirk’s body. His eyes were open, pupils slowly moving away from the glass ceiling to roll like dimes, finding Roxy’s face.

Roxy looked up at Jade. “Did-- did it work?”

**== >**

 

Jane set her thumb against the button, and pressed it down.


	9. he told you he'd wake you up when it was over

**> Roxy: See if that worked.**

 

Everyone dealt with waking from a long dreamsharing gig differently. Some people immediately grasped for their totems. Others took their time coming around, especially after a tiered dream; somnacin was one hell of a drug.

Roxy launched herself out of her chair, stumbling almost right into John. He steadied her, eyes wide. “Holy crap, what happened in there?” he asked, face kind and worried and lovely.

Roxy didn’t have time for that shit, frankly, and put all of her limited faculties into the acrobatic feat of hopping over the IV lines and throwing herself into Dirk’s chair. She hauled herself onto his lap and lifted shaking hands to twist in his shirt.

Pulling it, she leaned in to stare into his eyes. “Prove you’re Dirk. Right now,” she panted, glaring down at him.

His face pinched, and his muscles flexed against the restraints as he tried to move. “Jesus fuck, Rox, you’re kneeling on my dick, ow.”

She gasped, and scooted back, removing her knee from where it was damaging the family heirlooms. “Shit, sorry!”

The look of relief on his face was immediate, and he stopped fighting, slumping back in his chair. His head lolled, boneless and natural in a way AR couldn’t hope to fake, _surely_. His eyes opened slowly, after he took a long, bracing breath, filling his chest so completely, Roxy was shifted by the movement.

Dirk looked around, and found Jake, a few chairs down. “Dude,” he said, molasses slow and lazy from sleep. “Did you… give me the Bitchslap of Hope to wake my fool ass up?”

Jake’s mouth widened into a warm, stunning grin. “Well. You were quite occupied with your soliloquising and wallowing about what a terrible person you were. I could only listen to so much.”

Dirk nodded, eyes shutting again wearily. “Can’t fault you there. Thanks, Jake.”

A hysterical, overjoyed noise rose out of Roxy’s chest, coming out way too close to a shriek for her liking, but _who fucking cared_. She undid the strap around his head to get in close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and falling in to pepper his face with kisses. “It worked, oh thank god, it _worked_.”

* * *

 

**> Karkat: After-action report this fuckery.**

 

Karkat took his time coming out of the somnacin haze, his eyes shut as he took deep breaths. There was a taste in his mouth, like he’d fucking fellated a roll of pennies. It was awful, but he was used to it. It’d fade.

He couldn’t just lay around, though. He’d been laying around for-- well, out of the dream, less than an hour. In the dream…

He used to keep track. Kind of idly, just remembering how much had passed for him in each level, adding it all up. But the number eventually got big enough to keep him awake with a sick worry in his thorax, so he stopped.

Point being: he’d been laid out in that dream lab long enough for a lifetime.

His boots were heavy against the floor as he stood up. He could see Roxy ensconced in Dirk’s chair, sliding off his lap to squeeze in against his side, casually tactile. It was nice to see. She deserved it.

She looked up at him. She wasn’t the only one. Jade had her arms crossed, looked ready to say something.

Karkat knew how to put a stop to that.

He dragged a hand over his face, wiping away the lingering tiredness. “Nnnnnaaargh, okay. Okay.” His arms fell heavily to his sides, and he rolled his shoulders. “That was a fucking disaster. I knew it would be, I really did, but holy shit, we’ve set world records in the fields of bad decisions, and proven yet again why this entire industry is a travesty that should never have been fucking discovered.”

He lifted both hands, pointing at both Dave and Dirk. He didn’t meet either of their eyes. “Striders, you both need to never work in this industry again. I’m serious.” He pointed to Rose next. “Lalonde, your certification is revoked until you’re certified shade-free, which I think would be a fucking _miracle_. Chances are you’re the lucky recipient of your own bad idea machine, thanks to Terezi. I’m sure she can give you some advice on that.”

Rose’s lips twitched into a bitter smile, and she nodded.

Next, Karkat turned to Jake. “English, I guess…” He shrugged. “Welcome to the _I Extracted Someone From Limbo_ club. Whoop-de-shit, it isn’t as cool as it sounds. But… glad to see you pulled through, presumably thanks to your impenetrable stubbornness and Page-y nonsense.”

“Among other things,” Jake murmured, looking down at his hands.

Whatever _that_ meant. Karkat didn’t really care. “Roxy,” he went on, and Roxy sat up straighter as his gaze shifted to her. He searched for the words, unsure what to say, except… “That was incredible work, actually. Good job.”

She looked as surprised as he felt, before her face cracked into a brilliant grin. She blew him a kiss and a wink. “Likewise, boss, likewise.”

He tried very hard not to feel good about having her approval. It was difficult; she was one hell of a dreamer.

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. That covers it, I think. So ends the mission assessment of Karkat Vantas. I am officially _done_.” He glance at his employer. “Jade, you have my bank information. I expect a big fucking tip.”

He lifted a hand in one flippant, kinda shitty salute, aiming for _aloof_ and probably landing closer to _exhausted_. He could feel how tired his brain was, at war with how well rested his body was. God, this was why he didn’t do this shit anymore. “Later, assholes.”

Karkat didn’t look at any of them as he turned, and made his way out of the basement.

He needed to get out of there before... 

He needed to get out of there.

* * *

**> Rose: Take stock of the important things.**

 

Jane was circling around the chairs, picking up the IVs and coiling them up for recycling. Rose detached herself, beginning to fold up her needle and tubing before Jane even reached her, and received a gentle smile in thanks.

Next to her, Terezi held out her arm, head lifted high. John rolled his eyes and undid her IV obediently. “Nubs hasn’t grown out of his dramatics, I see.”

On her other side, Kanaya daintily removed her own IV and handed it off to their chemist, over palm. “It’s still something of a habit of his, yes. I would say we’re working on it, but that would be dishonest. Most days, I find his tirades oddly comforting. They are like an inexplicable law, such as entropy or taxation.”

“Sounds like Stockholm’s to me,” John muttered, quiet enough Kanaya might not have noticed if Terezi didn’t snort a huge, indelicate laugh and whack his thigh.

There were more important things to discuss, though, and Rose rolled from her position on her back to her side, propping her head up on a hand. It drew Kanaya’s gaze in a satisfyingly quick manner. “You,” she said, eyebrows lifted in a way that wasn’t at all smug, “kissed me, Ms. Maryam.”

For her frankness, Kanaya gave her a surprised blink. It melted into something more comfortable, her lips twitching up, fangs showing. “Ah, yes.” She slid her legs off the chair to sit primly, her fingers laced over her knee, giving Rose all her considerable attentions. “I was under orders to kick you, but a cold blooded murder in the middle of the ballroom floor would have complicated matters even further. Given your rather persistent flirtations, I thought an elaborate kiss would be suitable, and appreciated.” She smiled. “I apologize if I misread your intentions.”

From the other direction, Roxy barely muffled her laugh. Rose’s head whipped in her direction, glaring. “Ha, owned,” Roxy said in what was definitely not whisper, passing down judgement with a smirk.

“Yes, well. It was certainly an experience,” Rose said primly. She climbed to her feet, putting her back to Kanaya as she smoothed down her nightgown.

On her other side sat Dave, who was still reclining in his chair. His glasses were on, and his head tipped down, chin tucked against his collar. If she didn’t know better, she’d accuse him of having drifted off again.

His arm was stretched over the rest, and Rose reached out, curling her fingers around his wrist and squeezing. “Are you alright?” she said in an actual whisper.

He sighed, just as quietly. “Need a minute,” he said, still not looking at her.

She decided she’d give him ten, and then pull him aside. She wasn’t sure what had happened after she was kicked from the gala, only that Dave looked incredibly worn.

She rubbed his arm for a moment, trying to press some reassurance into him. His muscles remained oddly taut under her touch, though, and she mercifully let her hand drop away from him.

* * *

 

**> John: Take a guess.**

 

John stood over Terezi’s chair, splitting his attention between everyone rousing from their chairs and her face. Across the circle, Jade gave him a look, amused and exasperated.

Yeah, yeah, so what if this was always a _thing_ , so what if all John had done since Terezi arrived was orbit her like a persistent, amicably shittalking satellite. He knew what he was doing.

And he wanted to be there like she’d been for him.

As everyone turned their attention to each other, John bent down, close to her. In return, she sniffed, and swiveled her head to face him. Her hands were in her lap, and she didn’t even pretend to bite his hand when he touched her shoulder.

That told him all he needed, really.

“Vriska?” He murmured to her quietly.

Terezi sighed and nodded.

“How… was she?”

She showed some teeth. “Same as ever. Tried to convince Rosey to nuke Level Two into Limbo to pick up the pieces.”

John huffed a laugh, straightening, leaving his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, sounds like her.”

 

* * *

 

**> Dirk: Reacclimate to this little miracle called the waking world.**

 

They were having an intimate little siesta of a moment, him and Rox. She was attached to his side in a way that reminded him of when they were much younger, the way Roxy had desperately sought connection and touch, and Dirk had always told himself he was _allowing_ it instead of reveling in the freely offered affection.

Learning how to accept that kind of thing took years.

The moment opened up into more as Jane reached his chair. She undid his leg restraints, then one of his arms as Roxy got her ass in gear and unstrapped the other. He was thus released from his cuddle bondage.

Jane stood over him, eyes bright and gleaming wetly.

Dirk lifted his head and offered her a faint smile. “Jane Crocker,” he intoned gravelly. “My hero.”

The dream chairs were not meant for two people and they sure as hell weren’t meant for three people of considerable fucking stature squeezing in, but he didn’t care. Jane sat against (or, _on top of_ really) his side opposite Roxy. When she bent, he met her halfway, putting an arm around her as Jane hugged him.

He could stand to be crushed by his two favorite women in the fucking world for a few minutes.

“You’re really alright?” Jane said into his hair. One hand curled against his neck, and he enjoyed the feeling of her dragging her nails through it, for once soft without all his usual product cementing it in place.

He was also very much in her bosom. Such were the hazards of grown ass adults squishing into a tiny fucking chair. Next to him, he felt Roxy stifling a laugh. She was jealous, Dirk knew it from the bottom of his heart. “I’m alive,” Dirk said. “And I’m me. Given the circumstances, that’s a fucking feat and a half.” Jane’s fingers tightened for a second in his hair, and he sighed. “I’ll tell you the rest when I figure it out.”

“No more running experiments on your own brain, okay?” Jane told him, sniffling.

He nodded. This close, he could smell the fucking spices and flour on her. She’d been baking. She’d been baking _so much_ , damn. He’d worried her. “Sure thing,” he agreed, and squeezed her. “Thanks for coming, Jane.”

The chair opened up a bit as Roxy extricated herself and stood. Dirk slid sideways into her space, bracing himself and Jane. Calliope joined them, laser focused on Rox, who enfolded Calliope in an embrace, pressing her cheek against the top of Calliope’s head.

“Aw, Callie, I told you I’d come back to you,” Roxy told her.

“You did, I know you did. I’m so glad,” Calliope mumbled into Roxy’s collarbone. “It was… blimey, even sort of fun at points! But also quite scary. Let’s… not do it again.”

Roxy laughed and gave her a smacking kiss on the head. “Agreed, babe. Totally agreed.”

Jade clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Okay,” she said briskly. “I think we all need a little room to decompress. And I would love to know what the hell _happened_ to everyone if that’s okay. But, not here.” She waved to the stairs. “Living room? Get some food in everyone? Maybe some drinks?”

“That sounds perfect,” Rose said demurely. She tugged Dave out of his chair, and Dirk felt a pang; Dave looked like _shit_ , even with half the real estate of his face taken up by his aviators. Jade wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what happened. “I think we’d all do well to get out of this room, lovely as it is.”

“A _drink_ ,” Roxy breathed in awe, focusing on the pertinent details as ever. “Oh my god, I want a drink. Dirk, don’t you want a drink?”

He thought about it. He’d been asleep for over a week now. He could run a marathon or throw himself into the Pacific or break character in other animated, intensely relieved ways.

But a drink sounded incredible. “Hell fucking yes,” Dirk said, and helped Jane climb out of his lap. “I’m thinking…” He looked up at Roxy, locking eyes with her. “I’m thinking tequila sunrise.”

Her smile took on a distinctly wobbly quality, like a jenga tower clinging to life. She nodded, and valiantly didn’t shed a tear, just turned her face away quickly and taking a shuddering breath.

Everyone filed towards the stairs, and Dirk climbed up out of his chair once he was out of the radius of any more physical affection.

He didn’t realize until he was upright that, _jesus_ , he hadn’t eaten in over a week. He couldn’t imagine AR _understanding_ the whole Dreamer Needs Food Badly conundrum, either. Maybe his earthly hosts had keep him going with intravenous health packs or something, but that was a poor replacement for real honest to god human fuel.

Thankfully, most of the group didn’t see it when he almost fell the fuck over, head spinning. And someone was there to grab him, securing him on his feet.

Dirk shut his eyes for a second, let the dizzy spell pass. “Thanks.”

“I would say _anytime_ , but it’d be a right mess if you kept falling around on your face,” Jake said quietly. He was warm against Dirk’s side, pulling Dirk’s arm around his shoulders. He almost protested-- like it wasn’t enough that he’d gotten everyone dragged into his shit-- but the way Jake was glancing up at him, something careworn and weary in his expression, quieted him.

“Hey,” Dirk said, licking his lips. “Uh. Thanks.”

It was a paltry weak show of gratitude given everything Jake had done for him, but Dirk didn’t have the words for what he _really_ owed Jake, owed everyone. It was too much to fathom so soon after rejoining the conscious world, and he was barely on his goddamn feet. In a way, it would’ve made him feel better if Jake dropped him. Maybe he could genuflect enough to make some headway on it all, on the fact he owed his fucking _life_ to Jake.

Instead, he said _thanks_ , offered it like a child holding out a fistful of daffodils to the cute boy he liked, and Jake smiled, ducked his head and bit his lip in that painfully earnest way he had.

In this moment, maybe that was enough.

Jake guided him upstairs, mindful of his baby deer legs, letting Dirk hold onto him and the wall as they moved. Rose looked back at him once, a silent question in her eyes; Dirk shook his head for her. He was fine, and she seemed to have her hands full already with Dave.

Dave, who was fucking _silent_ and letting Rose lead him into the living room by the hand, jesus christ.

Dirk bumped his head into Jake’s, and nodded to his little brother. “The hell?” he whispered succinctly.

Jake pressed his lips together, breathing out hard through his nose. “A lot happened. It’s really not my place to say.”

Fair enough. He’d definitely need to get some answers later though. For now, he shuffled to the living room. Jane claimed the biggest armchair, and when she saw Dirk reached out to help him.

He was handed off, though not before Jake squeezed his hip one last time. Any other day of the year, that would have been a fucking fascination he wanted to examine, but today he was _tired_ and collapsing down onto the chair next to Jane was a relief. She tutted and fussed, moving throw pillows to get him comfy.

Goddamn, he adored these people.

As everyone settled in and moved chairs around to accommodate each other, there were heavy footfalls above them, coming down the stairs. Karkat Vantas (who’d been on this team, apparently, along with Pyrope and Maryam? the latter of which his little sister had macked on? fuck, he’d missed a _lot_ ) descended the stairs and circled into the room. There was a duffle bag over his shoulder, the straps looped around his wrist casually. He paused in the entryway, eyes flicking around, brow furrowing as he surveyed the scene.

He met Dirk’s eyes eventually, and let out a huff of air. “So, wasn’t kidding about before. The _not working_ thing. I’m going to blacklist you somehow, Strider, and Dave, Rose, your certifications are revoked. Rose, you… can come find me in a few months, we’ll retest you.” He turned his gaze to Roxy. “And Roxy, I… added you to the extractors roster. Really, great job in there, barring the whole shooting Dave thing. And his stupidity isn’t _your_ fault.”

He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder, nodding and crossing the room to the foyer, to the door. With his hand on the knob, he paused, and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, right, by the way, Rose. You’re Dave’s totem. Have fun with _that_ bit of fascinating trivia.” He opened the door. “See you people never! Except, Kanaya, but-- yeah, bye.”

And with _that_ carpet truth bombing, he walked out of the goddamn house.

Roxy was the first to speak, head turning slowly to Dave. “Wait, _what?_ What did he just say?”

Dave grimaced and shoved himself out of his chair, moving fast, almost running for the door. “I’ll explain later,” he tossed over his shoulder before yanking the door open again and disappearing through it.

 _Shit_. Dirk looked to Rose, who usually had a handle on these kind of things. She was busy staring after him, mouth working soundlessly.

Well, damn, at least his family was in the same boat.

Pyrope let out a sharp cackle, breaking through the silence like a hammer through a window. “Wow! And I thought the Twelve were a mess.” She kept laughing, and started clapping. John tiredly reached out and aggressively held her hand.

“I need an explanation,” Dirk said plaintively. “And alcohol, _por fa-_ fucking- _vor._ ”

* * *

 

**> Dave: Chase him down.**

 

Dave did not think this through. Which, to be fair, was par for the course because he wasn’t thinking much through lately and knew it. When his brain caught up with the _fucking everything_ that had happened in the past hour (or was it 29 days compressed into that hour, holy shit he needed to _not_ think about that yet, he couldn’t), it was going to be bad news bears.

But right now, Dave cursed as he ran across the loose gravel road in front of Jade’s house, the little rocks like knives against his feet. But the jeep was already running, and Dave was not letting this asshole get away.

He yanked the passenger door over and hauled himself in, shaking off a bit of gravel that stuck to his foot. “Shit, ow,” he muttered. He fired a glare up at Karkat. “You think you can just drop that shit on our doorstep like a ding-dong-ditch and _leave?_ ”

Karkat didn’t look especially shocked to see him. His hand was already on the gear change, and it was in drive. Dave wondered if he’d been about to pull away or if he’d waited. He couldn’t tell which was the less annoying possibility. “I was sort of planning on Rose grabbing you by the auditory flap to scream at you for a few minutes. It was a pretty vital part of my getaway plan.”

“You’re an asshole,” Dave informed him, pulling the door shut.

“Seatbelt,” Karkat told him.

Fine. Dave pulled it on, continuing to glare across the seat at Karkat so he knew Dave was not happy about it.

Karkat smirked, and reached out to snatch Dave’s glasses right of his face. He dropped them on his own. “Fuck, that’s so much better. I hate this planet’s sun,” he murmured, and pulled away from the house.

When Dave had braved the fresh hell that was the gravel to follow Karkat, he’d imagined the subsequent conversation would involve a lot of shouting and maybe a punch in the nose. But as the jeep trundled down the road to the airstrip…

Dave looked out at the water, the late morning sun reflected in the ocean, and let out a sigh that felt like an exorcism. His head sagged back against the seat. He caught a glimpse of something in the sun visor. A takeout menu. Shit, he’d forgotten he’d put that there.

After a long minute of surprisingly mellow silence, Dave asked, “Did you really take me off the roster?”

“Yeah,” Karkat said softly. With just the two of them together, he was quieter. He always got quieter when it was just them, Dave noticed. A day ago (or month? don’t think about it), it would have pissed Dave off. Now it was an intense relief. “And I’m adding one _hell_ of a black mark too. I don’t actually have a blacklist, come to think of it…” He let out the slightest laugh. “I’ll have to change the roster’s page. It’ll be hard, but with time, patience, and a copy of _HTML For Assholes_ , I’m sure I’ll persevere.”

Dave rolled his eyes, letting the motion carry him, head lolling to the left. Karkat’s eyes were visible from this angle. He was still squinting a little against the sunlight, taking the road leisurely. Nocturnal biology on Earth was a pain in the ass.

“Well,” Dave said, letting the word roll around his mouth for a moment, searching for the next one. “That assumes I’m going to… want to be re-certified. Eventually.”

Karkat blinked, but didn’t look surprised as he glanced askance at Dave. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for it,” Dave murmured, voice going even quieter.

“You don’t say.”

“I kind of… went into Limbo without my totem, on account of using my sister as a totem.”

Karkat nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

Dave grunted vaguely, and lapsed into silence again. He was going to have to talk to Rose about it. Admit he’d been doing it for _years_. She could be mad. Or, worse, she might feel guilty about it. She was weird sometimes, like it was her _fault_ she couldn’t actually read Dave’s mind.

God, everyone was going to know. Roxy was going to yell, he just knew it.

For the first time, Dave thought about his family, who he loved, _desperately loved_ , and wanted…

Something. Distance, maybe. He wasn’t sure if that was okay.

Karkat asked, endlessly fucking gentle, “Dave. Do you _want_ to work in dreamsharing?”

“My whole family does.” Which wasn’t a fucking answer, and he knew it.

“Not anymore,” Karkat said, idly, like he wasn’t the one to _decide_ that shit. The unassuming surly king of his unwanted domain who cared too fucking much to let the whole thing fall to anarchy. “Maybe take that as a sign.”

Dave snorted. “You didn’t. When the thing happened to you.”

“ _The thing_ ,” Karkat repeated, smirking again. “Nice euphemism for the death of most of my team and the dissolution of Project Ophiuchus. I took it as a sign, Dave, I fucking built the only regulatory system in this godforsaken shitshow of an industry. It was that or watch more people get themselves killed or worse.”

“Yeah,” Dave said, conceding. He lifted a lazy hand, prodding Karkat’s arm with one finger. “Are you going back to that? You’re Mr. Moneybags now.”

His mouth twisted, and he shook his head. “Later, probably. People need it. First, I’m going to buy a fucking house with Harley’s money. Probably sleep for a week. Nice, blissfully dreamless sleep.”

The jeep bumped down the uneven road. Dave watched Karkat’s grip on the wheel, the gleam of his orange claws against the leather. Swallowed. “Sounds nice.”

Karkat finally _looked_ at him, head jerking to the side before he hastily returned his eyes to the path. “You could… come with. If you wanted.”

Jesus. Dave _ached_ for it. He wanted it so bad, to lay in bed and be alone but not _too_ alone, to listen to the sound of Karkat’s voice when he wasn’t shouting, that low rumble with the hint of alien _something_ around the consonants, let that be a goddamn lullabye until he learned where to fucking go from here.

Karkat cleared his throat, a flush on his cheeks. “Nevermind. Sorry. That was--”

“I can’t,” Dave said. In the mirror, in the distance, he could see the house behind them. It seemed small from here. Manageable. “Not right now. But, uh. Maybe later?”

“Yeah,” Karkat sighed. His lips tugged up at the corners, just barely visible even this close. “I’d, yeah. You can do that. If you want.”

Humming, Dave let his eyes slip most of the way shut. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, but Karkat was taking his time, and the rocking of the jeep was almost comforting.

He’d have to drive back himself, and face the music. But at least.

At least he had this, and an offer of maybe more. Given how much of his life had just been upended like a burglar ransacking a ground floor summer home and making off with the flatscreen and silverware and the illusion of security, that meant a lot.

The drive felt endless, and still Karkat killed the engine too soon, parking outside the airstrip. Both of them looked at the plane ahead of them.

Karkat took Dave’s glasses off, folding the arms down gingerly before holding them out. “Right. You have a lot of assholes back there to take care of. Not that you aren’t one of them yourself, but,” he said, the insult falling flat, utterly devoid of malice. It made Dave smile. “Yeah. Hope… hope your brother recovers. That was a fucking ordeal and a half.”

Dave clicked off his seatbelt, and took his glasses from Karkat’s palm, just holding them for a moment. “Yeah.”

Karkat’s eyes were bright like fresh apples, tired like worn gold, and unblinking on Dave’s face. “Okay. I’m gonna. That’s my plane. I’m.”

Dave leaned in, sliding right across the bench seat to get close enough to kiss him. Karkat turned into it, hand immediately cupping Dave’s jaw, tips of his claws against his hairline. It was dry, with the slightest slick feel of chap stick. Dave parted his lips, tasted mint across the bow of Karkat’s mouth, and sighed as something in his chest unclenched.

He moved closer, hand bracing on the driver’s door, knee between Karkat’s legs. Fingers caught through his belt loop, hauling him closer, and Dave tucked his head down to dip his tongue between Karkat’s lips, just a flicker that made Karkat groan, stretching up in return and pulling Dave in by his hair. He tasted bitter like coffee, like he always did.

He considered it, just shoving Karkat down across the bench seats and giving him a _real_ send-off, fucking in the jeep with the sun beating down on his back as he shielded Karkat from its harsh glare.

But he’d done this rodeo before with this particular pony, and remembered what a _mess_ they’d make together. Jade would never forgive him, and he’d get back to the house looking like he’d lost a fight with a liter of Big Red. So, instead, Dave kissed Karkat leisurely, enjoying it, and when Karkat parted reluctantly to take a breath, Dave let him, leaning back carefully against the steering wheel.

His glasses sat on the seat next to them, teetering on the edge. Dave plucked them up, unfolded them, and guided them back onto Karkat’s face. “Lemme know where you end up buying your big stupid house,” he said. “I wanna come see.”

“Sure. I’ll email you.” Karkat slid the glasses up into his hair, the frames clicking against his horns. He tugged Dave in by the front of his shirt, kissed him once more, closed mouth but lingering. After, he helped Dave shift off his lap, and climbed out of the jeep.

The windows were down, and Dave leaned out, and got one more kiss for his trouble. Karkat smiled. “Bye.”

Dave didn’t say goodbye. Instead, he watched Karkat grab his bag out of the back, and walk towards the airstrip.

“Hate to see you go,” Dave called after him. “Fucking love watchin’ you leave.”

Karkat turned, shot him an incredulous look, hand slashing sideways in fond exasperation. He was still smiling, and Dave waved languidly as he continued on.

There was no rush. Dave sat there, dragging his fingers over his lips as he watched the plane take off. It wasn’t until the sound of the engine faded back into the steady push-pull roll of the ocean that Dave turned the jeep around and began the journey back to the house to see what awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was something.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading this. It was a weirdly experimental fic for me, and I enjoyed it immensely. The way so many of y'all got into this and left such _incredible_ comments when I wasn't that confident in the story-- thank you, seriously.
> 
> Shout out to Cass, Kace, and Chai for reading this shit over and encouraging it and pointing out the obvious flaws. Y'all, thanks.
> 
> I mentioned elsewhere but... if anyone is interested, I could write an epilogue for this. I sort of intend to, just a flash ahead to let y'all know the fallout of The Strider Job. I could also, if anyone really wants it, tell the story of Dave's certification. Because _boy fucking howdy_ was that a thing and a half.
> 
> But please, **let me know.** Otherwise I'm already working on another little (HAHA """LITTLE""" HA) AU.
> 
> Also, since we are now solidly done with spoilers, if y'all had any questions about this AU, about the Strilondes, about the Twelve, etc, [I'm over here on tumblr](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/) and love talking about that shit. I think I promised the full rundown of the Vriska Job? My tag for this AU is, predictably enough, [#i warned you about penrose stairs bro](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/tagged/i-warned-you-about-penrose-stairs-bro).
> 
> Thank you, everyone, and please let me know if you enjoyed. And on the off chance you'd like to buy me a coffee, I gots one of those links [here](https://ko-fi.com/1326G5C9YIL0T). ~~I'll prob buy tea and more HS music actually but nevermind~~
> 
> /JAZZHANDS. See you next time!


	10. epilogue one: you will discover it's never over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months after the Strider Job. Alternatively, three years and change _before_ the Strider Job. 
> 
> Epilogue/Prequel. Part One of Five.

**> Karkat: Deal with your home invader.**

It was raining again when Karkat arrived home after his latest trip abroad. That hadn’t stopped being really nice, all the rain. The humans bitched about the Pacific Northwest part of the US and how it was always fucking raining there, but that was honestly why Karkat picked it. The world was his oyster, he could live anywhere he liked.

He picked Whidbey Island. Close enough to a major airport for his work, but far enough away from the city itself that he didn’t have to deal with _people_ if he didn’t want to.

And he’d had up to his fucking horns with people, honestly. For a solid week and a half he’d been doing certification work. It’d taken forever to get through the backlog of test requests. After the Strider Job, he’d taken three months to himself just to recover, to get away, and to spend almost two million dollars of Jade Harley’s money on a house. While he was away, things piled up.

Recently, Karkat felt like he’d been in more hotels than he’d had hot meals, and just wanted to be _home_.

His hive location was right on a rocky, grey sand beach, and a good ten minutes away from anyone else. It was a very new house, made by some kind of impressive human architect. Karkat picked it because the lack of neighbors, how it didn’t come with a ton of extra lawn ring space that he frankly didn’t have time to upkeep, and was built out of some “ultramodern” mix of angles and curved walls that reminded him of Alternian hives.

He’d only had it two months now, but it was a fucking relief to walk in and drop his duffle bag in the entryway.

Someone had been in his house.

The thought occurred to him before he was even sure _why_. Just there was something _off_ , something that made him drop to his knee to get his pistol out of his bag. Loading it, he held it low at his side as he walked on silent feet through the ground level.

A slightly hysterical voice in his head shouted incessantly about how _un-fucking-fair_ it was, that he finally had a space of his own on this fucking planet and someone already broke in.

The living area that overlooked the water was dark. It was a moonless night outside, and even with his night vision it was hard to see more than the faint shapes around him. Hesitantly, Karkat touched the panel on the wall, turning on the lamps.

The foot of his recliner was up. He sure as fuck hadn’t left it up when he left.

Across the way, after a step up, was his kitchen, and Karkat immediately noticed there were two glasses and a plate sitting in the drying rack by the sink.

His lip curled angrily as he started to feel truly fucking baffled. His TV was still here, the kitchen was otherwise immaculate as he’d left it, nothing was misplaced.

When he retreated to the main hall, he spotted what must’ve set off his paranoia in the first place; a jacket was hanging from one of the hooks by the door. A worn leather jacket. Definitely not one of his, but…

It was a pure fucking hunch that drew Karkat to open the hall closet. As luck would have it, at the bottom, under his winter coats and scarves, was a pair of beat up red converse shoes.

“Holy shit,” Karkat groaned, shutting his eyes for a moment. What an _asshole_.

He unloaded his gun again, set it down on the sideboard with his keys, and shut off the lights again before heading upstairs. It was just as quiet up here, just as dark, and Karkat continued to walk softly as he made his way to the master bed. Nevermind it was his fucking hive and he could stomp around if he wanted; something… stopped him.

His room overlooked the water, with a view of distant lights far across the black waves. Only a few pinpricks of white and yellow were visible through the gap in the blackout curtains, and their meager light didn’t do much illuminating. The palest glow fell over the foot of the bed. Karkat had given serious thought to finally getting a _decent_ recupercoon, but… it’d been years since he’d had one, and years since he had to worry about his species’ inclination towards violent nightmares. There wasn’t really a need for expensive imported sopor when he didn’t dream to begin with.

So, he had a bed. It was currently occupied. Dave had stolen both pillows, rested his head on one and wrapped his arms around the other. His mouth was slack, the fucking mouthbreather that he was, and his eyelashes flickered as his REM cycle spun like a top.

The fire in Karkat’s chest faded as he looked down at him. He was vulnerable and soft like this, his fingers curled loosely as he slept. The long line of his back was clearly visible, part of the blanket slouched off. There were freckles there, and Karkat’s claws twitched at the sight. His hair was a mess too; most of it was still the whitest blond money could buy, but much more wavy than Karkat remembered, and the darker roots were showing underneath.

So what if Karkat took his time staring? No one was around to judge, Dave was asleep, and it was _his_ house.

But it was also late, and Karkat was fucking tired. When he’d had his fill of the peculiar sight of Dave Strider at rest, he stripped down, dropping his clothes into a haphazard pile by the foot of the bed, before yanking the blanket up and shoving himself in.

Dave snapped awake, turning onto his back, the surprise of sudden wakefulness on his face. He almost swung his elbow into Karkat, but a palm against his shoulder stopped him.

“Did you break into my fucking house?” Karkat asked, jabbing a mean claw into Dave’s side. Not too hard; his skin was so delicate compared to Karkat’s. How humans survived despite their biology’s various weaknesses, he had no idea.

When his brain caught up with what was happening, Dave visibly relaxed. He wiggled onto his back, sleepy eyes on Karkat. “Isn’t really breakin’ since you had your spare key in a really goddamn obvious fake rock. How was work?”

“I could’ve shot you,” Karkat scolded, frowning. “I _should’ve_ shot you.”

Dave rolled further, onto his side to face Karkat, resituating himself against the pillow. He smiled, somehow managing to be smug even at one in the morning. “That’s a stupid reaction to finding an attractive, suave piece of booty keeping your bed warm.”

“Why, have you seen one?”

Dave snorted. “ _Ouch_.”

Karkat watched him carefully, waiting for… something in his face. Any sign of what had happened before, how he’d dealt with-- with all of the bullshit that had fallen on him in the wake of the last job. He remembered it all vividly: the shake in Dave’s hands, the way he never wanted to meet Karkat’s eyes, how he’d broken down when he lost Rose in the ballroom.

He stared, looking for the remnants of all that in Dave’s face, until he yawned. Karkat’s jaw twinged, eyes shutting for a moment, breaking his concentration. Fuck, he was tired.

“Long day?” Dave asked.

“I’ve been in airports for the last… I don’t even fucking know. Time zones make it impossible to keep track.” He sighed. “Give me a pillow, you thief.”

“Technically haven’t stolen anything, so it’s burglary.” He handed over the goods anyway. As he moved, the blankets shifted, and he lifted his eyebrows, then lifted the blankets themselves to peek underneath. “Mr. _Vantas_ , you best not be making a play at my virtue. I’m not that kind of boy,” he said, drawl deepening, letting go to cover his mouth.

“Bullshit you aren’t,” Karkat shot back. “And trolls sleep naked, idiot, I wasn’t--”

His gaze was warm as he smirked, soft lines around his eyes. His fingers dragged across Karkat’s shoulder, blunt little nails dragging. “It’s fine, Karkat, I was kidding. Did the airline charge you extra for those bags under your eyes?” Without waiting for a reply, he shimmied around, rolling back over onto his other side. As he settled, he glanced over his shoulder. “So, you into spooning, or just forking?”

Karkat wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, but.

He wasn’t able to resist the offer laid out in front of him.

Dave was warm and solid beside him, already breathing steadily, still sleepy this late at night. Palming his side, just above his hip, and dragging his hand up was deeply satisfying, especially feeling the way Dave’s chest moved as he sighed. Turning his hand, he ran the back of his claws down his side, making Dave shiver and let out a little hum.

“So, you’re _sure_ you're tired, right?” Dave asked, giving Karkat a heated look.

Unfortunately, he was. So Karkat wrapped his arm around Dave’s waist and tugged him back, reassured when Dave went easily, bending his legs to give Karkat more room.

In the morning, they’d talk. But for now, Karkat shut his eyes, breathing in the scent of Dave’s shampoo. Which was clearly _his_ shampoo, because Dave was apparently that much of a presumptuous little shit. It was unfairly comforting to smell on him, to Karkat’s silent mortification. It was the kind of possessive hindbrain human antics that made him worry he was really going native.

It didn’t stop him from nuzzling in closer and drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

**> Past Dave: Meet your sister for brunch.**

For Dave’s twenty-second birthday, Rose got him probably the most self-serving present she’d ever managed to foist off onto him since he was nineteen and Rose bought them both tickets to a play she was obsessed with but “certain you’ll enjoy it too, Dave, trust me.” Whether she was right or not in the end was irrelevant. But Dave was long used to Rose’s weird managing of their lives.

This time, Rose’s _gift_ was a reservation and a trip to Boston. At least she had the good grace to make it a first class flight. She didn’t have the good grace to _not_ get him a room at the fucking Ritz-Carlton, much to his fucking dismay. Dave had grown up… not very well off, and it had been strongly ingrained in him that fancy places weren’t for people like him. It was like wandering into a church, that sense of not belonging, like someone was going to notice you and smite you, like they could _sense_ you didn’t belong. Or something.

Dave could handle it, of course. He knew what he was doing, and despite it being fucking _cold_ in Massachusetts in January, like the city was cryogenically freezing itself, Dave stepped out of his taxi in his tightest jeans, a tee shirt, his rattiest shoes, and a jean jacket. The uniformed doormen didn’t even blink before helping him in, but the low class drag made Dave feel better anyway.

He checked into a really fucking _extravagant_ room that seemed vaguely gross to his delicate goddamn sensibilities. As he dropped off his bag, he checked his phone. Predictably, his sister was already messaging him, ready to studiously arrange the hell out of this.

 

> TT: According to your itinerary, you should be arriving at the hotel about now. I hope your flight was pleasant, and that you didn’t feel the urge to charge too many micro bottles of alcohol to my account. Sobriety is a vital component to this situation.  
>  TT: When you’re ready to socialize, you can join us down in the bistro. They have fantastic food.  
>  TT: Please be somewhat presentable, Dave.  
>  TT: And furthermore, don’t take that request as a challenge.

It was Rose’s endless optimism that made Dave love her.

Dave left his jacket on the bed, but otherwise didn’t bother changing before heading right back downstairs, to the attached restaurant, the Artisan Bistro.

It was a dark, long wooden space. At this hour on a Wednesday, after the holiday season, it was fairly quiet, enough that the few patrons were seated far apart, their conversations muffled by subtle acoustics. There was a long bar, currently empty, some longer tables for large parties, also empty, a few filled booths.

His sister sat at one of the smaller tables, facing the door. She saw him only seconds after he saw her, and he could _see_ the strain in her face as she tried to smother her annoyed expression. Compared to his displaced street rat look, Rose was _done up_ in a way he hadn’t seen since her last date. Her eyes were immaculately smoked with grey-purple, lipstick dark and matte, and a nice black dress hung off her shoulders. Throw some ice on her and she was ready for the theatre. Mess up her hair a bit and she was ready for the goth club. Rose was versatile like that.

She smiled to her guest, setting her hands on the table to push herself upright. “Speak of the devil himself. Brother, how lovely of you to finally join us.”

“Sup, sis.” He leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. “Sorry I’m late, but I didn’t want to come. It’s a fuckin’ ice age up here.”

“Yes, I forgot that you struggled to survive in anything under 60 degrees.” Her voice was light, amused but her eyes were hard on him, some hardcore psychic communication going on there. _Don’t fuck this up._

Yeah, yeah. Dave turned to see the guy Rose had been brunching with.

Everyone heard stories about Karkat Vantas. He was one of the OG dreamers, the apparent leader of the Twelve. After the Project went to shit, he’d vanished off the map for a few years. Then, two years ago, the guy strolled back in like a king reclaiming a crown he’d left at the dry cleaners too long, nonchalantly flipping the fucking industry around to his own personal ruleset through bullying and sheer intimidation.

Seeing him now, after hearing so much about him second and third hand, Dave… had no idea if he lived up to the hype or not. He was older than his Project photos, but not in the usual human way; he didn’t have any wrinkles or crow’s feet, just… a tiredness in his eyes. It was the first thing Dave noticed, before the candy corn horns, the shadow grey skin, his orange clawed hands around his coffee mug. He was dressed for the cold, a fucking butter-soft maroon v-neck showing off the sharp line of his clavicle, clashing a bit with the rich green scarf he had lazily looped around his shoulders.

As far as trolls went, Dave would rank him a solid seven. Not too shabby for the man, the myth, the legend.

It might’ve been rude to size someone up so thoroughly, but with dreamsharing, being able to take a quick read on people was important. And Dave could see Vantas doing the same to him in return.

“So is Rose all cleared for her highly illegal and dangerous work now?” Dave asked, having the good sense to keep his voice down.

Vantas smirked. “I don’t discuss other people’s certifications, sorry.” He inclined his head slightly to Rose, taking a sip of his coffee.

Rose tugged Dave to sit, setting him down in one of the chairs, hands on his shoulders. “I’m certified, yes. It was a... very rigorous but fascinating test. Quite different from the architecture exam.” She slid her plate closer to Dave. “Here, try the eggs benedict, they’re fantastic.”

Back in October, Rose had flown to Berlin to meet with Porrim Maryam, and had come back with the stars in her eyes, cities in her mind, and an dream architect’s certification.

Almost instantly, she’d gotten after Dave about certification, about following in Dirk and Roxy’s footsteps. And when Vantas had posted a bulletin claiming he’d be testing in the US again, she’d signed them both up immediately for extractor/pointman certification.

Dave had dragged his feet a little, but knew from the start that he’d do it. Fuck knew what trouble Rose would get into if he wasn’t there to watch her back.

Helping himself to some of Rose’s food-- the little eggs _were_ pretty great, each balanced on a little english muffin and a bite of lobster, that yellow citrusy sauce dripping over the sides, not bad at all-- Dave asked, “So how does this work?”

Vantas’s gaze slid aside to Rose.

She sighed. “It works by me politely excusing myself.” She withdrew a large bill from her purse, setting it on the table, tucked under the salt shaker. “I think I will do some tourism. The city’s beautiful this time of year.”

“How the fuck are we related,” Dave muttered, rolling his eye. He tipped his head back with the motion, watching her stand over him.

She smiled and leaned down to peck his forehead. “Good luck, Dave. Mr. Vantas, thank you. It’s been a pleasure.”

Vantas nodded. “Likewise, Lalonde. Be careful out there.”

Lingering for a moment, Rose squeezed Dave’s shoulder once before her fingers trailed down his arm, and she left the restaurant.

Immediately, Dave worried about an awkward silence falling over them. But Vantas took another deep gulp of coffee before launching into it: “It’s not a complicated process. Normal testing is just for dream stability and to ensure you don’t have anything dangerous living in your subconscious. Some shit’s really bad news for other dreamers, and we try to weed out trouble.” His claws tapped against the stone mug, _tak-tak-tak_. “Certification’s more intensive. I’ll be confirming your dreamer class, checking your subconscious security, and putting you through any paces I feel are relevant. There’s no shame in failing the certification, but you don’t get a refund on the test, bluh bluh, and so on.”

Dave lifted his eyebrows. “That the fine print?”

“You’re a Strider,” Vantas pointed out. “I’m kind of surprised to even _see_ you. Mostly I just get post-job rumors from that name.”

Dave took another bite of fancy brunch. There was a side of fresh berries with some kind of sweet cream fluffy crap on top. That was pretty good too. “Dirk predates the whole roster. It’d be kind of weird to test him when he knows more than most people in the business.”

Vantas’ eyes narrowed. “Does he.”

“But,” Dave said as he chewed, “what’s this fucking surprise twist? The rumors are true, I’m my own person. There’s a different name on my driver’s license and everything. I even tie my own shoes in the mornin’.”

“And _you_ care about certification?”

“Do my motivations matter? I thought I was signed up for extractor testing, not a fucking background check or sofa session. I _got_ that already, you’ve been in my sister’s head.”

Vantas snorted, sharp and quick. He looked down into his coffee, maybe embarrassed. “Fair point, fine. You’re just… not what I expected.”

“I’m not my brother,” Dave informed him sternly.

“Well, thank fuck for that.” It shouldn’t make Dave bristle, the snippy tone to Vantas’ voice. He _got it_ , he knew what a fucking pain in his ass Dirk must’ve been, this one guy who ignored Vantas’ carefully constructed little system and got away with it. It didn’t stop Dave from wanting to argue, to rip Vantas a new one for talking shit about his bro.

Dave shoved the last egg biscuit thing in his mouth before he said something stupid. Not that _he_ cared, but Rose would be disappointed in him.

And besides. Testing only took one day. Just one day, and Dave could go home and vent to his family about what a prick Vantas was.

Vantas finished his drink and stood. He took a folded piece of paper, just big enough to sit between two fingers, and handed it over to Dave. “I’m going to go set up. Whenever you’re ready, Strider.”

Written on the paper was a suite number. Dave pocketed it, nodding, and resisted the temptation to make a really unprofessional joke. It was _begging_ to be said, but: Rose. Disappointment. Right.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. It was no big deal. Just one dream, and he’d be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /turns up "Afterlife" obnoxiously loud
> 
> so we have a five part epilogue, but none of the parts are going to be terribly long, so don't worry too much, it shouldn't drag on.
> 
> ~~/also quietly revises the rating of the fic because really how the fuck did i so epically drop the ball up until now~~


	11. epilogue two: boy, they're gonna eat you alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes already. LOOK it was my day off. so i wrote porn. because really i'm still mad it took me this long.

**> Dave: Wake up, you have a lot of explaining to do.**

Dave woke up to a very fucking growly voice in his ear. “Asshole. Sleep time is over. Rub your little fists into your grubby eyes, wake up, and explain what fucking possessed you to break into my hive.”

Still, it was nice. He was under the covers, away from the chill in the air, and had Karkat against his back, propped over him on one arm. Given how late Karkat had been coming in, Dave was surprised he was already awake again. The sun was barely up. That was pretty annoying, actually, and Dave determinedly kept his eyes shut, turned his head away, against the pillow.

Karkat pinched him. “Ow, fuck,” Dave yelped, smacking his thigh sharply. “Goddammit, Karkat, like I fuckin’ said, I had the key--”

“Stolen from my fake rock, which was very well hidden,” Karkat said, clearly delusional. It’d been at most four feet away from the door. Come on.

“And you invited me.” Stood under the sun, offered Dave a chance to run away. Sometimes Dave was still pissed at himself for saying no.

Karkat sighed, and settled down, settled over Dave’s side like a lead blanket. He was heavy and put off heat like a summer breeze. What the hell he was doing up in the rainiest part of the country, away from all the familiar southern warmth, Dave didn’t know. He was a decent replacement, though.

“I assumed,” Karkat said slowly, “that you’d call ahead or email or something.”

Dave considered that. Yeah, it was probably polite or something. But Dave had seen that Karkat was on one of his trips and-- hadn’t wanted to wait, honestly. “Surprise,” Dave murmured, lifting his head to look up at Karkat. “Want your housewarming gift?”

“I would bet every gold doubloon in the Empire’s treasure vaults that it’s your bulge in a box,” Karkat replied. “Hope you got a gift receipt.”

God, but Karkat was grumpy in the morning, even by his own standards. If he wasn’t latching onto Dave like an amorous octopus, Dave might’ve been worried. Also, there was a weariness to his words, like he wasn’t _quite_ awake yet, but was eager to hash this shit out. Why it couldn’t wait another two hours, Dave didn’t know. Nonetheless, Dave just said, “That’s cold, man.”

“ _You’re_ cold. Stop putting your feet on me, you human popsicle.” Which, of course, made Dave roll over, pressing closer to Karkat until they were entwined from chest to toes, Dave hooking his feet around Karkat’s legs to press them against the back of his knees. Karkat cursed, and headbutted Dave none too gently.

He didn’t do anything to shove Dave away. A hand settled on Dave’s back, claws dragging along his spine. It was nice, and Dave kind of hoped they could go back to sleep now. He was really comfortable.

Then, Karkat said, “Three months.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

Dave lowered his eyes to Karkat’s lips, just to avoid his gaze. “I had to… be there.  At least for a little while. There was… a lot of shit to take care of. And, uh.” He slumped down, tucking his face against Karkat’s neck. This close, he could feel the barest hint of a clicky purr in his neck. “Rose and I had to talk about some things.”

“How’d she take it, the whole _living totem thing_?” Karkat asked, his cavalier tone belied by his soft touches. They’d never done this before, been this close for this long. It was fucking incredible.

“Weirdly, that got set aside after we discovered I’d spent the last, like, four years doing a job I hated because I felt like I needed to live up to Dirk’s name and protect her and, _whatever_ , jesus.” He shook his head, sighing. That was the short version. The very, very short version. “She’s not mad anymore, but it was touch and go there for, like, a fucking month and a half.”

“No kidding. How’s your brother?”

From one awful topic of conversation to the next. Karkat sure wasn’t making this shit easy on him. He squirmed, uncomfortable. “He’s… kind of fucked up about everything still. Doesn’t dream anymore, which-- I thought you had to be using somnacin way longer before that side effect happened.”

“Traumatic dream events can speed things up.”

“Yeah, ‘pparently.” Dave breathed out heavily. “He’s back in Houston right now. Rox and Calliope are staying with him. It’s, uh.” He shifted, like he could somehow get the leverage to squeeze in closer, hide away from this shit. He’d _known_ they were going to have to talk about it, but it still stung. He’d kind of hoped Karkat would be nice enough to not bring it all up, but obviously not. What the hell had he been thinking. “It’s hard to basically have to rebuild your fucking life and figure out what to do all over again.”

Karkat inhaled sharply against his cheek. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that.” His hand stilled at the top of Dave’s spine, claws flirting with his hairline along the back of his neck. “How’re you dealing with that?”

He’d quietly booked a goddamn ticket to Seattle so he could hide in the new house his barely-an-ex just bought, and had ignored all his family’s messages for the past three days. Dave shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Click, hum, right against Dave’s cheek. That little vibration was sweet. “That’s so not an answer.”

“I don’t have an answer for you, Karkat,” Dave said quietly. “I just knew that… after everything, I think I just want some space from everyone.”

Karkat snorted, stirring Dave’s hair. “Yeah, that’s definitely why you’re in my fucking bed.”

“It is. By everyone…” Dave stopped hard for a moment, pushing his face against Karkat again, because he’d _discussed_ this with Rose, he had, but the words still felt like pebbled glass in his throat.

“By everyone, I mean my family. We always lived in each other’s pockets, and I thought that was good? But… now, I got some compelling fucking evidence to the contrary, and given how I kind of fucked up real badly, I am super into the idea of having a vacay away from them.”

“Oh,” Karkat said, sounding bereft.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, unearthing himself from the cozy warmth of Karkat’s body to look in his eyes. They were too serious, and Dave hated it. He reached up, patted Karkat’s cheek, because that was a troll thing, right?

Karkat snorted, batting his hand away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, man, it’s not…” No. That wasn’t going to work. Karkat looked at him and he fucking cared so much, it was like a chain for him to drag around. He cared about every damn thing, he cared about _Dave_ especially, and Dave had never thought… someone besides his own family would do that. Would care.

More than anything, he wanted Karkat to stop. Just for a little bit.

And he thought he had an idea how to make that happen.

“You know,” Dave said, cupping a hand around Karkat’s neck, his thumb against the source of that awesome purry clicky noise. There was a thing in his chest, rattling its tin cup against his ribs, persistent desire. “We can talk about it later.”

Eyes on him, dark red. Good. “Yeah?”

“I can think of some better ways to spend time,” Dave offered, and stretched out against Karkat, feeling his breath hitch. “Come on.”

Karkat wasn’t as hard to convince as he pretended. There was just a bit more vibration under his hand before Dave was swiftly pushed onto his back, getting a lap full of Alternian hotness for his trouble. Now _that_ was what he was talkin’ about.

Hands curled around Dave’s forearms, palms against the softer skin under his wrists, and Karkat put weight on them, holding them against the bed. _Hell yes_. But Karkat was still grumpy-faced. “You think you can seduce me, Strider?”

Laughing, Dave extended his arms, stretching himself down the bed, off the pillow, until he was staring up at Karkat from below. “That’s the idea. And it’s workin’. Any time you call surname me, it’s a major tell, _Vantas_.”

Maybe Dave was projecting a little, but god, he was serious, they could talk _later_. They’d only managed to fuck one time (or, maybe technically twice?) years ago, and while that night featured prominently in the Strider Mental Porn Theater (adult admission: one ticket and a huge side order of guilt), it was just the once. And even though Dave had slept with other trolls here and there, none of them were _Karkat_.

He’d die before telling Karkat that, though, because wow, no one needed that kind of ego boost.

Thumbs pressing down deliciously hard, Karkat dragged his hands up to Dave’s wrists, fingers circling them. “Smugness doesn’t look good on you.”

Dave kneed Karkat’s back, the only thing he could reach. “Any other time, I would be happy to go twenty rounds with you, but right now, you’re fucking sitting on top of me and you’re naked and I’d like to join you there.” He lifted his chin. “I hereby concede all the fucking banter duels. You win them all. Your prize is stickin’ it in me.”

He could see it in his face, how Karkat had another snappy remark for _that_ , the first step into another dance of bickering and flirtation and _who fucking cared_.

Instead, Karkat sighed, deeply put upon by his hot housesitter who wanted to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane. Life was so hard for him. Still, he manned the hell up and moved, up onto his knees, reaching down to help Dave out of his pajama pants and boxer-briefs.

“Yessss, finally, we’re doin’ this,” Dave said, kicking his clothes off the bed somewhere. And _wow_ all of Karkat’s skin felt even better without a barrier in the way, damn.

“I’m only fucking you in hopes it shuts you up,” Karkat groused, hands back on Dave’s wrists, and immediately ruined the effect by leaning down to kiss Dave, sweet and warm as hot molasses.

About damn time. Kissing Karkat was interesting, different from kissing a human. There were a lot more teeth involved, and while there wasn’t the butcher block holding a dozen knives like some trolls had, Dave was still careful as he explored Karkat’s mouth. It made Karkat tense a little, maybe unused to that; he pushed Dave’s head against the bed, tongue storming the fucking gate and pressing into the admittedly much less dangerous human territory.

Which is why Dave bit him, making him jerk back in surprise. Dave laughed, turning his head. “Dammit, Dave, can you stop being contrary for sixty seconds?”

“Doubtful, and this better not be over in sixty seconds. Hey.” Dave nudged his knee against Karkat again, softer this time. “Do you want…” He gave a significant look downward, at the smooth grey expanse between Karkat’s legs. Dave knew a thing or two about sleeping with Alternians, he’d read Troll Cosmo, okay? Thirty-seven percent of respondents liked _that mouth thing humans did_ best, blunt teeth were awesome, et cetera et cetera.

“Yeah, because I completely trust you and your mouth right now,” Karkat said, even as a dark flush spread over his face. “No, just…”

Rolling his hips a little, Karkat rubbed his pelvis against Dave’s stomach, hot smooth skin against his. Dave tried to arch up, give him more friction, but he didn’t have the leverage and grunted, frustrated.

Smirking, Karkat asked, “Problem?”

Dave tugged his arms against Karkat’s grip, eyebrows lifted.

“No,” Karkat said simply. “No, I think I like you like this. You break into my house, you sleep in my bed, you make a mess of my house--” Dave scoffed. “--and you think you can get away with anything.” His fingers squeezed, hard, and Dave’s breath stuttered. “Nuh uh.”

So Dave had to just lay there and take it as Karkat ground against him with increasing pressure. Gradually, the skin down there softened, split into a long vertical slit that was blood fucking hot to the touch. Dave shut his eyes, breathing through his own blood pounding in his ears because, _wow_ , it was fucking… weird and incredible to just feel Karkat working his nook open against Dave’s stomach.

His bulge stretched out of the sheath, wet and so hot where it rubbed against Dave. He jerked, biting down a shocked moan. Okay, okay, hell yes. He yanked at his hands, wanting to reach down and touch it already, jesus. Underneath and behind Karkat, he could feel his dick getting hard. There was nothing for it to press against, and it was getting lonely. “Karkat, come the fuck on,” Dave whined.

When he didn’t reply, Dave opened his eyes again. Karkat was leaning over him, eyes on Dave’s face, mouth parted slightly, looking… Dave shut his eyes again, because fuck, no one was supposed to look at Dave with that fucking mix of awe and fondness, it burned. “Karkat, I swear to god.”

Karkat pressed his lips against Dave’s cheek, softly, and Dave nearly fucking bit him for it, it was too much-- but then he was moving _off_ Dave, to the side, letting go of his wrists to pull him along by the arm. Oh, okay. Dave got his hand on Karkat’s thigh, pushed himself up to kiss him, coaxing his tongue back into Dave’s mouth.

“Were you serious, that I could…” Karkat’s hand clenched on Dave’s ass, claws just barely digging in, and _yeah,_ that sounded like a _plan_.

“Yeah, definitely, yes,” Dave said quickly, knocking away the pillows and blankets to make room because he was _down_ for that. “I’ve been naughty and mean, presuming on your hospitality and shit, you should totally make me pay for it. With my body.”

“Jesus, your mouth didn’t fucking run like this last time,” Karkat muttered, supporting him as Dave moved.

“Yeah, lets not compare to that,” Dave replied ruefully. “Not really the same thing.”

Karkat had the decency to look sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

“Make it up to me,” Dave said, unwilling to break momentum over the… shockingly hot but emotionally dubious memory of that first night in Boston. “Right now.”

He got onto his knees, gripping the headboard. It was the best offer he could make without a silver platter involved.

Karkat’s hands settled on his waist, thumbs against his back, framing his spine. It was… just on the right side of too much, and Dave wondered what the fuck it took to get Karkat on task, why he had to constantly be distracted. You didn’t see Dave giving into every urge to pet all that dark grey skin and mouth every scar and alien oddity on Karkat’s body. Dave had restraint.

And he figured that stuff could wait for later. Restraint and _priorities_.

Things would’ve been faster if Karkat had useful supplies in his bedside table, but Dave had already checked and knew he didn’t have any lube in there. Which was kind of sad; either Karkat forgot or didn’t think Dave would show up? Or maybe he simply hadn’t finished shopping yet? All were possible.

Dave hadn’t done _this_ with another troll, but… he watched a lot of videos, and had the idea. It took reaching back, helping hold himself open-- Karkat couldn’t, downside to the claws. His bulge was thin at the end, a tapered shape that gradually widened along its shape. Biting his lip, Dave bowed his head as it nudged in, just-- dripping hotly and moving slowly, alien and writhing. Above him, Karkat cursed, his bulge shifting in more. “Fffuck, fuck, sorry, it…”

Mind of its own, yeah. Dave breathed a laugh, nodding, tucking his head into his elbow. “‘M good, it’s fine.”

It took a while, though. Karkat was so fucking careful, Dave wanted to smack him, but settled for rocking his hips back, speeding things along. Trolls were _slippery_ , and generally made a fucking mess of things, but that worked to Dave’s advantage this time. He held onto the headboard, curled his other hand around his dick, and patiently worked Karkat’s bulge inside, breathing slow and steady.

 _Fuck_.

He knew it would fit, it had last time, but he’d maybe forgotten exactly how that felt, the heaviness, the way it pushed insistent and hot against his walls until he started to shake. It dripped, almost burning, slicking everything up further. Eventually, Karkat’s hips were pressed against Dave’s ass, and Dave’s arm buckled. He just managed to catch himself on his elbows, groaning as the tentacle continued to just _move_ , aimless and relentless.

Karkat ran his palm up Dave’s spine, into his hair, and let out this low, reverberating chirp-growl thing. A question. Dave nodded, fingers clenching in the sheets, another groan pulled out of the vice in his chest as Karkat leaned into him, weight bearing down, _fuck_.

He crumpled more, braced on one bent arm, head turned so he could breathe. “Jesus, shit,” Dave managed. His other hand dug in, trying to regain his grip.

The bulge rubbing against his prostate put a fucking hard stop to _that_. Dave whined, body jerking all over. “Oh, ooooh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

The exact amount of control Karkat had over his big red joy toy there was a mystery to Dave, but he clearly had enough to focus and press that fucking fuck button like he was on his last fucking quarter at the arcade, and Dave was suddenly so much further gone than he expected. Oh _jesus_ , he just lay there and shook, pawing at his own dick without an ounce of coordination. “K’rkat, fuck, _yes_.”

His only response was a low, persistent growl or purr, vibration without words. Hands on Dave’s hip and his shoulder, grip tight, and Karkat got to business really fucking Dave, taking him apart as he gasped and whimpered against the bed.

Hot rivulets of red ran down the inside of his legs, against his balls and down into his fucking grip as he fisted his cock, and it tipped sharply from just _really good_ to something _filthy_ , and Dave got off like that: Karkat grinding against his prostate while Dave jerked off with the slick Alternian come easing his way.

It fucking felt like relief. Blame that on the endorphins or what the fuck ever.

Dave slumped, looking vaguely at his messy hand, translucent red and white smears. Gross, but really satisfying to see.

Karkat was still fucking him, sounding like an engine running, so much subvocal noises rattling loose from him. It was weird, how quiet he was. Intense. Nice. Dave wiped his hand on the sheets and reached back, squeezing Karkat’s leg, feeling the tensing of his muscles as he moved.

It wasn’t that Dave _forgot_ , but nothing really prepared you for a troll shooting off in you. He was already full enough as it was, but trolls came a _lot_ , holy fuck, and Dave shivered at the pressure as it increased until he reached some fucking limit, and then it ran down his legs, and the sheets underneath soaked under his knees.

When Karkat finally finished, he put his hands on Dave’s back, leaning a little, breathing hard. “Fuck,” he said, panting.

“Yeah, you did,” Dave replied, so pleased he came very close to giggling. “Man, your sheets are gonna have to be burned.”

“Fuck,” Karkat said again, and slipped out of Dave, giving him one last shiver of aftershock, curling his toes. Mm, nice.

Dave rolled onto his side, trying to dodge the impressively big wet spot. Like, it was practically a puddle. Even more of it was still on _him_. Goddamn trolls. “So that’s my rent paid up, right?” Dave asked.

“Shut up,” Karkat grumbled, the words almost subsumed under his now constant purry noise, like a big friendly cicada. He knee-walked over to Dave and threw himself down next to him, groaning. The bed creaked under the sudden shift.

That, Dave decided, was exactly what they needed. Good job, go team. Hit the showers.

Well, in a bit.

Tucking a hand into Karkat’s hair, Dave pet him; his nails dragged over his scalp and rubbed against the horn beds. Karkat made more noises, no words, just threw an arm around his waist and dozed.

Dave lay his head back, shutting his eyes. It was kind of awkward without the pillow, but like hell he was going to move again after all that hard work getting Karkat back to sleep. And if this was what it took to _get_ Karkat back to sleep, who was Dave to complain?  


* * *

 

**> Past Karkat: Conduct certification exam on Dave Strider.**

Heartbeat. That way.

Karkat tucked his hands into his pockets, and walked through the streets of the dream. It was one of his, a really boring standard landscape to work in. The sort of dream that filled in its own details as soon as he glanced at the fuzzy areas. He preferred these for his examinations; he wasn’t about to come up with and maintain a complicated dreamscape for every person tested. This shit was stressful enough already.

It was all necessary, though. Someone had to do it, and Karkat’s need to see less people die in this fucking industry outweighed his desire to stay in his hive and wallow in his own miserable memories. And obviously Karkat didn’t trust many others to do this job. Just him, some other Project alumns, like his moirail.

The street opened up to a park in front of an old movie theatre. On a bench under a tree sprawled Strider, arms spread out over the back, fingers tapping rhythmically.

Karkat made a beeline for him, and stood over him. Black lenses peered up at him. Or, in his general direction. “Strider.”

Strider flipped him a lazy salute. “Vantas, sup. This one of yours? It’s very…”

“This isn’t an architecture certification,” Karkat told him. Which, thank god, because Karkat was _not_ an architect. He didn’t have the patience for it. “And I’m not here to show off to you. You’re the one meant to be convincing _me_.”

His grin was sudden and flinty. “Man, you’re lucky Rose told me to behave.”

Whatever the hell that meant. Karkat didn’t care and wasn’t inclined to keep this human in his mind longer than he had to. According to Lalonde, the two of them had been dreaming together for over a year, and under all the formality of payment and testing, Karkat knew this was a courtesy. If the two of them didn’t want to get tested, they didn’t _have_ to. That was their legacy.

He could stand to hurry things along. Strider was his final test of the season. He could go home after this and do his best to ignore that name for the rest of his days. There wasn’t a secret third set of human twins, Karkat had _checked_.

“Start with the basics,” Karkat said. “What’s your assumed class?” There was no way Strider didn’t have some idea.

“Time something.” Strider stood, tugging his jacket down, rolling his shoulders.

“Count to five,” Karkat told him.

Strider did, surprisingly obedient-- and when was Karkat going to stop being surprised by every third thing Dave Strider did?-- and Karkat heard it, but also felt it inside his head, the numbers ringing between his ears even more clearly than in Strider’s own voice. He nodded.

“What else you got?”

Strider hummed, looking around. “Uh, how should I... “ He ran a hand through his white hair. “It’s hard to show you.”

Time always fucking was. Karkat remembered Aradia as she learned her abilities, the number of times she would be off on her own in the dream before suddenly, abruptly clapping her hands and cheering, having pulled off something that no one else around her was even _aware_ of.

“You’re absolutely a Time class dreamer. The counting thing confirms it. So just… tell me, what can you do?”

“I can change things that have happened. Like, it’s basically time travel? I can only go back five or ten seconds, but I’m the only one who remembers. But I can change a decision or something.”

Karkat crossed his arms, chin tipped down, thinking. “So its localized to you. No one else perceives the change. Affectation based around your consciousness, but affects everyone else too…”

Strider shrugged, waiting.

There was a list in Karkat’s head. He mentally crossed off half the items on it. “Can you change something that’s happened to _you physically?_ If you were injured enough to be kicked or collapse the dream, could you reverse that?”

“No. That’s… no.”

“And it’s a conscious choice rather than an innate thing?”

“Yeah, it needs focus and intent.”

Karkat nodded, crossing off the last two items on his list. “Knight. Knight of Time.”

Strider rocked back on his heels, nodding along too. “Huh. Sounds cool. What’s Rose?” Karkat narrowed his eyes at Strider, who grinned. “Seer of Light, right? She was right, wasn’t she?”

He was not going to play along with this. “I’m going to walk around and observe your security for a while. You should get yourself somewhere out of sight. Not, like, _hiding_ , but I shouldn’t know where you are. I’ll find you later.”

“Easy enough,” Strider murmured, looking around. “See you… later? Yeah.”

If he was going to make it awkward, Karkat was just going to leave. He put his hands back into his pockets and set off, back down the street. He knew he had about six blocks of freedom this direction, then he’d have to find a good path to wander in.

In his dream, he was clearly on earth, but it was dark out. Or, heavily overcast in a way Karkat found comfortable. When he didn’t pay the additional attention to pick out a particular time, all his dreams tended to default to this. Earth’s sun was annoying, but it was less deadly than Alternia’s, and with cloud cover, it was very manageable. If humans didn’t have the decency to be nocturnal, at least their sun didn’t always blind him.

It was amazing how much Karkat _didn’t_ miss Alternia.

Five minutes into his stroll, Karkat was brought out of his thoughts by a paranoid twinge in his mind. He looked up, and saw eyes already on him. Several eyes.

Around him, on the street, were shoppers, commuters, people waiting for the bus stop. Projections. The illusory people Strider’s subconscious had populated the dream with.

And they were looking right at him.

 _What the--_ Tension rang through Karkat, the urge to pull his weapon, to be ready was strong. Most of the projections around him were honed right on him, and that was _bad_. If they knew he was the dreamer, knew there was an intruder in Strider’s head, they could turn so quickly, and nothing was worse than a mob of aggro’ed projections.

However, as Karkat kept walking, he found… none of them moved towards him. They all _clearly_ knew he was there, they stared _right at him_ in a way that made fear crawl up his spine, but still they walked past him and did nothing.

One even held the goddamn door for him as he walked into a storefront, nodded at him, and just barely nudged his arm as she walked by.

Karkat had found himself in a soap and candle shop of all things. Thankfully, he wasn’t a good enough dreamer that all the scents and chemicals would bother him. He just looked through some items at random as his mind spun.

Strider had projections, like everyone else. (Almost everyone else.) They filled in the gaps in the dream like they should. Upon locating an interloper, projections were _supposed_ to move to remove them, to protect their dreamer.

They were not, point of fact, meant to hold doors for the intruder or give them free soap samples.

The idea that Dave Strider would have such lax security was baffling. Everyone had basic protections within their minds. Some were better than others, like the mental security of Heart, Space, and Blood class dreamers. But this was like running into an obsolete antivirus. It wasn’t _doing_ anything.

Karkat pointed himself towards the heartbeat he felt, the direction of Strider, and headed back down the street.

On his way, on a whim and to fulfill some of his curiosity, Karkat waited until a projection was walking his way, sharing the same bit of sidewalk as him. Timing it carefully, Karkat swung his leg to the side, into the projection’s ankle, and watched as they dropped to the concrete, tripping easily.

Heads spun in his direction. Every projection was looking at him.

Karkat kept walking, one hand on his gun under his jacket.

And nothing fucking _happened_.

He didn’t even know what that meant, only that it was bad.

**== >**

Strider’s heartbeat led Karkat to a record store seven blocks down, on the far side of a courtyard. There was a fountain, more trees, and some nice statues and things around. It was all bland, built from half-remembered sightseeing Karkat had done around the planet on his certification trips. Nothing was so wholesale lifted from memory it could be placed in a real city.

He tore through the courtyard. Karkat was so focused on reaching Strider, when something else caught his attention, his first distracted thought was, _What’s Lalonde doing here, I already cleared her?_

Sitting under a tree on a velvet pillow, a book in her hands, was Rose Lalonde. Or, no. Under the tree was a _shade_ in the shape of Rose Lalonde.

Her eyes flicked up to meet Karkat’s, and she smiled.

Immediately afterward, Karkat lost sight of her because suddenly about five projections had stepped between him and her. Two dog walkers, a jogger, and two shoppers all just happened to stop in the space between them, blocking his line of sight. They stared at him, and that fear reaction made another attempt to its way up his spine.

What was going _on_?

Slowly, Karkat put up his hands and stepped away, back towards the record shop. The closest projection to him smiled and pointed her hand towards the store encouragingly.

Karkat was officially done being in Dave Strider’s head, holy shit.

Ducking into the shop, Karkat could feel Strider’s heartbeat clearly, thumping in counterpoint to his own heart, just a little jarring, but manageable. Inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim atmosphere. There were rows and rows of shelves, various albums displayed, posters overlapping unevenly on the walls, and curtained listening booths against the far end of the shop.

Strider’s location still wasn’t immediately obvious. Karkat focused on the steady beat, tried to pick out exactly _where_ it was coming from. But he was right on top of it, and it was blending into the bass playing through the shop. It didn’t help that discerning exactly where someone was when he was this close already had always been a pain in the fucking globes.

He stalked around for a moment, trying to find him, before the storekeeper tapped Karkat’s shoulder.

The projection pointed to the farmost listening booth with a smile.

Karkat resisted the urge to just kick himself out of this fucking dream.

Behind the thick red curtain in the corner, Strider was sitting in a booth, headphones on his ears. His hands were folded on the table in front of him, fingers tapping against his knuckles, head moving. As Karkat opened the curtain, he stopped, sliding the headphones off his ears.

“Oh, hey,” Strider said, guileless and calm. “What’s next?”

“We need to talk,” Karkat said, then drew his pistol and woke himself up.

* * *

**> Past Dave: Endure a fucking lecture.**

Dave was jostled awake, coming out of his dream harshly as Vantas stood over him. His hand was tight around the back of the chair; he must’ve lifted and dropped it to kick Dave. 

“I said we needed to talk,” Vantas said sourly.

“Hey, I was just enjoying my nap. What’s up.” Dave reached down, pressing the button on the side of the chair. It moved on its own, from reclined to upright.

Dave had a nice room, but Vantas had a _suite_. It was a long room, separated into sections by some half-walls with tasteful artwork hanging. Along one long, uninterrupted wall was a window overlooking the city in all its grey, snowy glory. They were sitting in the living room section, the PASIV resting on the glass coffee table between their chairs.

Dave removed his needle, dropping it into the trash.

Vantas was… pacing. All the pretty, smooth professionalism just sloughed right off him, and he was walking to and fro between the table and the door, arms crossed, long orange nails tapping against his elbow.

“Okay,” Dave said slowly. “So… no joy?”

“Your mental security is _broken_ ,” Vantas said in a rush, brow deeply furrowed in thought. “It’s… jesus bulgesucking christ, I’ve _never_ seen something like that before. It’s like the entire security’s inverted. How--” He lifted his gaze to Dave, eyes sharp. “Have you been experimenting with your dream structure, _anything_ that might affect your projections?”

“Uh, no? What do you mean inverted?” Dave did not like the sound of this. This didn’t sound like he passed.

“There’s no outward aggression. I fucking _tripped_ one of your projections, and they did nothing.”

“So my projections were asleep at the wheel.”

“No.” He slashed his hand through the air angrily. “They were aware of me the moment I arrived, they were _hypervigilant_ , I couldn’t shake their attention. But they didn’t see me as a threat, even when I hurt one of them. The only…” He stopped, sucked in a breath. “You have a shade. They protected _her_.”

A shade, shit, what? Shades were… really bad. Powerful projections that were so rooted in a dreamer, they could cross into the playing field even when you weren’t populating the dream. No one worked with dreamers with shades. They ruined jobs. They ruined _people_ if you weren’t careful. “Her,” Dave breathed. “Her, wait…. Rose?”

“Yeah. I saw her, and as soon as I did, they were ready to defend her.”

Okay. Alright. Dave considered that for a second. “Well, that’s… I mean, so let’s look at it like that. My security is there to protect the people dreaming with me, it’s not like _I need it_ , I’m--”

“Shut up,” Vantas snapped, looking pissed. “No. You don’t get it. When I finally got down to finding you, they _helped me_ , they pointed you out to me in the dream _knowing_ I was an intruder.”

“It’s not like they’re some feral projections, though, Vantas--”

“It’s not being feral, dipshit. It’s that I got the distinct fucking feeling that if I wanted to hunt you down in your own head, one of your projections would’ve loaned me a knife.”

Dave leaned forward on his knees, letting out a hard breath. Okay. That sounded like he wasn’t getting a pass on this. And Dave knew from every fucking second-hand report ever how testing worked. Either you passed or you failed. There was no middle ground, no second chance.

He looked up at Vantas, over the edge of his glasses, and licked his lips. “Look.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Vantas muttered, and twirled his hand. _Go on._

“There’s no point in failing me,” Dave said, low and quiet, watching how Vantas’ eyebrows shot up incredulously. “There isn’t. My brother’s working without a certification. I can too if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”

Like fucking _hell_ he was going to let this get in the way of him and Rose working.

Vantas smiled, a little cruel. “Or I can tell the entire industry that Dave Strider has unusually violent projections. No one will ever dream with you.”

Dave was on his feet before realizing he was moving, hot anger lancing through him. “You _can’t_ , you fucking prick--” His lip curled. “It won’t work. I’ll tell them you’re lying.”

Vantas took a step closer, chin lifted, eyes bright and furious. “Let’s find out then, _Dave_. Whose name means more, Vantas or Strider. It’ll be an fucking interesting match-up.”

Suddenly, desperately, he wanted to punch Vantas in the nose, the smug asshole.

His fingers curled. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that… what if Vantas was right. What if people believed him instead of Dave?

He’d never be there to protect Rose. Or, she'd have to give up on this because of _him._ And that was un-fucking-acceptable.

It took three deep, steady breaths for Dave to chill the fuck out. His shoulders slumped, his angry grimace fading. As they did, Vantas calmed too, watching Dave steadily, lips just barely downturned.

“Okay,” Dave said. “So what now?”

The answer was supposed to be Vantas kicking him out without his certification, because he failed, he failed the test and it was supposed to be a one-or-done, and he’d fucked it up. He’d have to call Rose and tell her.

Instead, Vantas sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes. “I don’t… know. I’ve never seen this before…” A half-growl worked out of his chest, annoyance clear. “Just-- this time tomorrow. Come back. We’ll do… something, I don’t fucking know yet.”

It wasn’t much.

But it was a goddamn _chance_.

“Tomorrow then,” Dave said, and left before Vantas had the chance to change his mind.


	12. epilogue three: I will sing your name 'til you're sick of me

**15 June**

**carcinoGenetist [CG] published bulletin on board CERTIFICATION ANNOUNCEMENTS**

CG: AS OF AN HOUR AGO, ALL CERTIFICATION TESTS FOR EXTRACTORS/POINTMENT/GENERAL DREAMERS ARE SUSPENDED DUE TO UNFORESEEN BULLSHIT CIRCUMSTANCES. EVERYONE SCHEDULED FOR TESTING IN OSLO, YOU'RE NOW POSTPONED. WHEN I RETURN FROM HANDLING THE HORSESHIT THAT JUST GOT DROPPED ON MY NUTRITION PLATEAU, I WILL CONTACT EACH OF YOU FOR RESCHEDULING. AND NO, WE ARE NOT REFUNDING SHIT. DON'T ASK. IT'S IN THE CONTRACT WHEN YOU SIGN UP FOR TESTING THAT THIS CAN HAPPEN, AND BESIDES, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO REFUND A BUNCH OF SHADY FUCKING ""ANONYMOUS"" DONATIONS TO MY OFFSHORE ACCOUNTS? WE ARE OFF THE ACTUARIAL GRID HERE.

DO NOT CONTACT ME, I WILL CONTACT YOU. PESTER ME ABOUT YOUR POSTPONEMENT AND I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL "LOSE" YOUR CONTRACT. THE FUCK WILL YOU DO ABOUT IT? CALL THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU? PLEASE.

-CANCER

[Responses: **98** ]

 

**24 June**

**carcinoGenetist [CG] published bulletin on board ROSTER UPDATES**

CG: ROSTER UPDATED, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. TAKE NOTE OF NEW CERTIFICATIONS AND REMOVED ENTRIES. PLAN TEAMS ACCORDINGLY.

-CANCER

ETA: OKAY I'M FUCKING FREEZING THE COMMENTS HERE. THIS ISN'T A GOSSIP BLOG, TAKE YOUR USELESS UNINFORMED SPECULATION ELSEWHERE, SHITHEADS.

[Responses: **827** ]

 

**30 September**

**carcinoGenetist [CG] published bulletin on board CERTIFICATION ANNOUNCEMENTS**

CG: THE STATE OF MY INBOX IS REPREHENSIBLE. ALLOW ME TO CORDIALLY THANK THE SEVEN CONTESTANTS ON "I CAN'T FOLLOW DIRECTIONS AND WOULD LIKE TO FORFEIT MY CERTIFICATION DEPOSIT TO PAD CG'S ALREADY AMPLY LINED POCKETS." YOU'RE ALL WINNERS. CONGRATULATIONS.

FOR THE REST OF YOU, CERTIFICATION TOUR IS IMMINENT. IF YOU ARE LOCAL TO OR ABLE TO REACH CENTRAL EUROPE AND RUSSIA IN THE NEXT THREE WEEK PERIOD, SUBMIT YOUR CERTIFICATION REQUEST BY THE END OF THE WEEK. SLOTS ARE EVEN MORE FUCKING LIMITED THAN YOU THINK, SO GET IN THERE BEFORE I CLOSE IT OUT.

IF YOU'RE SELECTED, YOU WILL RECEIVE A REPLY BY NEXT FRIDAY. IF YOU DON'T HEAR BACK, TOUGH SHIT, TRY NEXT TIME. THERE'LL BE ANOTHER SESSION SOON. I KNOW I'M BEHIND ON SHIT. WE'LL CATCH UP BEFORE HUMAN CHRISTMAS.

-CANCER

ETA: FROZEN AGAIN. THIS ISN’T YOUR OFFICE HYDRATION STATION. SHUT UP.

[Responses: **503** ]

 

**17 October**

**turntechGodhead [TG] published bulletin on board ROSTER UPDATES**

TG: sup hepcats and fine felines, the roster is updated. time to peruse that shit like it’s your high school yearbook and its nearly reunion time. oh damn, Delilah’s a pointman? shit, she couldn’t even remember her fucking pencil in algebra, who the fuck cleared her? better go post a congratulations on her wall and text all your varsity lacrosse buddies to let them know what a fuckup Disaster Delilah _really_ is.

new cert requests will open in, like, six weeks, maybe a bit less. depends on how CG’s feelin about things. he’s gotta commune with nature and repair his chakras and log 70 hours of scream therapy before he’s ready for another session.

happy halloween. make sure to check your candy for signs of tampering before eating it. nothing ruins a holiday like antifreeze-flavored jolly ranchers.

-TG

ETA: FROZEN, FROZEN, HOLY SHIT, FROZEN. MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS OR I WILL *MAKE* YOU.

ETA: unfrozen for the holiday. post pics of your costumes. (just remember to delete the photo metadata. don’t be a darknet amateur.)

[Responses: **2498** ]

 

* * *

 

**> Dave: Make like a 50s housewife and cook your man breakfast.**

 

Dave spent some time flicking through the photos on his phone. It was fucking disgraceful how many professional dreamers apparently thought it was a hilarious in-joke to go out treat-or-treating as the Nightmare on Elm Street guy. Talk about bottom rung humor.

There was, amid the mix of rumor-mongering and shitty mirror selfies, a photo of Roxy. She was rocking an impressive fake beard and pointy hat. Ian McKellan, eat your heart out. Behind her, Calliope had done such an incredible makeup job to make herself into pink wizard (probably of her own invention) that Dave barely recognized her. She’d fucking missed her calling in movie makeup, jesus.

French toast was starting to smell awesome. It was late in the morning, and Dave was bound and fucking determined to have something for breakfast beyond coffee, and would drag Karkat along if need be. There’d been some gratifyingly thick Texas cut bread in the microwave, and Dave availed himself to the stove while Karkat sat on the porch, glaring at his tablet like it’d personally murdered his lusus.

Some vanilla French toast with powdered sugar would fix that. No one could frown through Dave’s toast.

Dave tugged on a spare jacket before joining Karkat outside, holding both plates, forks and butter knives precariously curled around his pinkie. “Fuck, it’s freezing out here. Aren’t you insectoid, don’t you feel the urge to hibernate right now?”

Karkat snorted. “I could fill a fucking doorstopper of a book with everything you don’t know about troll biology.” His nose scrunched, and he looked up with interest. “Oh. Food?”

It was kind of disgustingly domestic, chowing down on warm food that _wasn’t_ out of the microwave. The patio was nice, but cold, so Dave put his feet in Karkat’s chair, tucked into the body-warm space between his hips and his coat. They ate quietly, looking out at the grey water reflecting an even greyer sky.

The three days Dave had spent here alone, before Karkat returned, he’d looked out at this view with an itch in his skin and thought _I can’t do this_. It was too dreary, why the fuck was he here? He was a Southern boy to his fucking bone marrow. Why was he in the part of Washington state that was flirting with Canada, and with winter around the corner no fucking less?

Now. Dave felt still. It was a weird fucking feeling. He technically had an apartment down in Texas, but he was traveling so much with Rose, he’d _maybe_ lived there two months out of the year.

He wondered if he could get used to the same bed for weeks at a time. Months.

Karkat finished his toast and licked syrup from the blade of his hand. “People are not going to shut up about the bulletin thing.”

Dave shrugged. “Doesn’t bother _me_.”

His brow furrowed, and his hand curled around one of Dave’s ankles. Nice, warm. “I don’t like the shittalking. The speculation.”

“One day you boot me off the roster, another I’m posting shit for you. People are gonna be curious.”

That didn’t seem to comfort him. The grumpy face was still in full force, despite Dave poking him in the side with his toes. He reached down to stop Dave, sighing. “You didn’t have to. I can handle the bullshit admin part of this.”

“You got a sterling rep for being persistently angry and assholish when you have to deal with it. S’long as I’m here, why the fuck not let me do it? Save you the stress? Besides, man, you are _not_ great at coding sites. I am gonna clean that shit up at some point.”

“Long as you’re here,” Karkat repeated quietly, finally looking away from the water and at Dave. His eyes were always somehow even more vibrant when Dave went without his glasses, the tinted polycarbonate out of the way. “Dave, do you think you’re going to be my kept human or something?” There was a sardonic layer over the honest question.

Dave leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with the hands tucked into his opposite sleeves, making a little warm tube for himself. He’d known Karkat would ask eventually. God fucking knew Dave was still figuring out his plan here, was still winging it to a severe degree.

All he knew for sure was that he liked it here. And Karkat didn’t ask much of him. It helped.

“Way I see it… Okay, for one, you’re rich now. You can totally afford a boytoy, face it. You need to learn how to indulge in some conspicuous expense.” Karkat rolled his eyes. “Two, you are pretty much the reason I don’t have a job anymore. Thanks for that.”

“Welcome,” Karkat said, way too genuine.

Dave ignored him, went on. “Three, I don’t have any other marketable skills _and_ I have a criminal record in several countries thanks to being a bigshot name in the totally illegal biz.” He shrugged. “So, yeah. I think being your kept human sounds like a great idea.”

“And why would I put up with your glorified freeloading?” He was doing it again, that thing where he asked serious questions with snarky words so he didn’t have to admit to it. It was the kind of communication bullshit Dave _understood_. His family were the champions of it.

“You mean _besides_ the hot and cold running sex?”

Karkat blinked, frowned. “What the fuck is that idiom?”

“Oh my god, Karkat. Like water, but sex instead.”

“That’s a stretch, but fine.” It was cute, the little frown on his face as he puzzled through the odder points of English.

“I know the other reason,” Dave said, quieter. “Why you’ll put up with it.” He squeezed his feet together, against Karkat’s sides. “‘Cause your big secret is that you love taking care of people. It’s like a compulsion with you. And especially me.” Karkat opened his mouth, like he was going to argue, like he had a fucking leg to stand on. “ _Especially me_ because I-- want to take care of you too.”

His mouth closed with a sharp click noise, and Dave looked down, smiling. The dark reddish flush in his face was nice. Dave was a big fan. “And, ya know,” Dave went on quickly, “I’m attractive as fuck, have you seen me?”

“Hadn’t noticed,” Karkat shot back, a little meanly, even as the tips of his claws dragged Dave’s socks down so he could rub the thin skin along the top of his foot. God, he was so easy, it make something in Dave’s chest twist.

Tucking his hands into his jacket, Dave leaned his head back against the backrest, looking out at the water again. He wondered if it warmed up in the summer. Maybe if he got one of those bodysuit things. It felt categorically wrong to cover up so much to swim, but he could learn. He could adapt to whatever life threw at him.

Back inside, Dave slid across the smooth floors in his socks while Karkat made them both coffee. While his back was turned, watching the keurig heat water, he said, “Okay, let’s say I’m sympathetic to the idea of you staying with-- with me.”

“Which you are,” Dave reminded him.

“Maybe,” Karkat said, meaning _It’s been over two weeks and I still get a fucking starstruck look when I wake up and you’re there and it’s transparent as a ghost made of saran wrap._ “But you can’t just lay around my house all the time, it’s not fucking healthy after…” He waved a hand, jabbed a button on his coffee maker again. “You need to get out sometimes. After fucked up shit happens to you, you can’t sit around and let it eat you from the inside out.”

“Okay,” Dave said, leaning on the kitchen island and staring at the side of his face.

“Okay, so. I’ll have another trip to do in a month or two. You can come along.”

Oh. Not okay. Dave didn’t even know how it came so fast, but it felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water into his stomach, chasing away all the good, warm, comfortable feelings.

It must’ve been pretty fucking obvious on his face, because Karkat’s voice softened as he looked at Dave. “Not like that. You’re not dreaming. You’re never dreaming again, I promise,” he told him. It was way too fucking comforting to hear that. Karkat said it like it was _law_. Dave didn’t mind one bit, just nodded around the lump in his throat. “No, it’s like the administrative shit. I’m used to just doing it all alone, but if you’re here… you can handle it when we’re here, and when we’re out for testing just… make sure I get where I’m needed and meet with people, handle the bookings. And just-- keep me company. They’re long trips.”

That sounded a lot safer. He didn’t have to dream. He only had to take care of Karkat. That was good. Dave was fucking _accomplished_ at taking care of people. The idea of being there to stand sentinel over Karkat as he dreamed with strangers was _great_. Yeah, he could do that.

“So,” Dave said as Karkat slid a full mug of coffee to him. “I’m your secretary now?”

Karkat smirked, toothy. “I like the sound of that. Let’s call it that.”

“Well, shit. I’ll buy some pencil skirts, those hair chopstick things, get some pantyhose with that dark line up the back.” Even as he rolled his eyes, Dave could hear the start of that click-click-hum in Karkat’s throat. His eyebrows shot up. “ _Vantas._ You freak, you should’ve said.

“Oh my god, shut _up_.”

* * *

**> Past Karkat: Run an extraction on Dave Strider.**

 

Karkat was still having breakfast when Strider showed up at his door in the mid-morning.

He looked Karkat over. “Am I early? Also, are you drinking coffee? Before a dream?”

“It’s decaf,” Karkat said defensively, leaving the door open and retreating back into the room. He was still in his robe and flannel pants. Unprofessional, maybe, but he’d been up all night looking for a solution to the problem that was Dave Strider.

When he’d caught wind that Project Ophiuchus was ending, he’d liberated copies of all the experiment documentation and reports, stashed them on portable storage grubs hidden in lock boxes. Like hell he was going to let the people who ran it bury all the vital information like overzealous nut creatures. When they’d come to confiscate all his personal shit _just in case_ , Karkat had been fucking ready and waved fucking goodbye to his husktop.

He’d gotten it back about two months later, underfed and barely functional, because humans had no idea how to take care of Alternian biotech.

Point was, Karkat had almost everything, and he’d fucking scoured through notes, resisting the strong urge to pour himself a tall glass of human soporifics as he read his old team’s observations and theories. Terezi’s and Feferi’s had been particularly verbose and potentially illuminating, but nothing struck him as the key to this crap.

Strider plopped himself down on the sofa, sprawled at an angle until he was taking up most of it. His head turned, following Karkat has he puttered around. If Karkat was supposed to feel… chastised or something for not being ready, fuck that. He still had to shove something in his mouth if he was going to be ready for this.

“Ugh,” Strider said, suddenly emoting with his voice like a real boy. “Did you just dunk your grubloaf in your coffee?”

“Fuck off,” Karkat replied, muffled. It tasted great, okay. “Here’s the plan.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m going to run an extraction on you to figure out what went wrong with your security.”

For a moment, Strider didn’t say anything. Reflective glass just bounced Karkat’s own face back at him. As intimidation tactics when, it wasn’t bad.

“I’m sorry, what’s the punchline here?” Strider finally managed, sounding choked.

Because being an asshole all the time was kind of tiring, Karkat smiled faintly. “We’re in undiscovered territory, Strider. I need more information. I need to know why this happened. So.” He drained the last of his coffee, grimacing at the taste of the dregs, and flipped open the PASIV on the table. “Are you in or out?”

**== >**

Karkat was not used to doing two layer dreams for certifications. It was always him and the testee, and that wasn’t enough support to do it, generally. When you had to set up another PASIV in Level One, you wanted _someone_ there to watch over you.

With Strider, that was a non-issue. His projections weren’t going to find them and peg Karkat for a threat. So, Level Two was a go.

Besides, luckily for Karkat, shades only showed up on the level their dreamer was currently in. The Lalonde shade couldn’t find their sleeping bodies and fuck everything up.

So, Karkat dreamed, and allowed Strider to populate the landscape. It was a classic extractor’s map, so fucking basic and cliche that under different circumstances, it would never work. Anyone who dreamed themselves into this place would know _precisely_ what was happening.

But it was a unique circumstance. A voluntary extraction. Add that one to his information files.

The concept was simple; there was a facility full of secrets. Security checkpoints, guards patrolling, cameras and keycards. Halls with staid white walls leading further and further into the building. Near the entryway, doors weren’t locked. A little further, and there were standard key locks. Even further, and pinpads appeared at each door. Then pinpads with mandatory keycards with varying clearance levels.

Then, the vault.

It was a brutally obvious dream that forced the subject to fill it with all their secrets. So many goddamn hiding places and closed doors, all needing some whispered thing behind them. Normally, it took a lot of work to make it inside, to subvert the security, to even get close to the hidden things.

Karkat, on a hunch, walked up the stairs into the facility, stopping at the front desk.

The clerk peered over the high barrier at him, and smiled in apparent recognition. Asked Karkat to sign in, and then handed him a badge dangling from a lanyard.

Karkat flipped it over, checking it. His name, designation, age, and photo were all neatly arranged in the top margin. Below that, his signature, perfectly copied from the clipboard he’d signed. Stamped over that, a gleaming golden microchip. It felt heavy in his hand. Important. It felt like it would open the door to the Empress’ private concupiscent chambers, let alone anything in this place.

It hung heavy around his neck as he stalked down the halls.

For not even the first time _today_ , Karkat wondered why the fuck he was even doing this. Anyone else could’ve claimed curiosity. That was because everyone else in this business was a fucking wiggler who hadn’t seen the shit he had. Nothing killed curiosity like dead bodies, and by all accounts, Karkat should’ve been on his way to the airport right now, having failed Strider and moved on.

And yet, he was here, making his way deep into the facility, passing by huge, dangerous-looking projections of armed guards, all of whom nodded courteously to him as he passed.

Maybe it was his hatchmate. Rose Lalonde had been a very quick, clean certification. Professional but engaging, and so fucking polite Karkat wondered more than once if she’d been mocking him somehow.

Lalonde had _issues_ , but she had her shit on lockdown in a way Karkat almost admired. Her ability to control herself and keep the right things put away made this dream and its ridiculous security look like a public book depository.

The irony of Strider having a shade of her in his head was not lost on Karkat.

Figuring out what he was looking for was difficult. Ideally, he could find the solution to this problem in the upper levels of the facility, tucked behind a random door. If he could avoid delving deeper down, down to the vault, that would be ideal. Especially since Karkat could feel Strider himself down there.

He wasn’t going to learn anything if he didn’t stop acting like a nervous pupating adolescent.

So, third floor down. Fourth door on the left. He had no idea what to punch into the pinpad, but the facility had been accommodating so far. Attempting his usual PIN, 0069, yielded a green light above the door.

Karkat scowled at how fucking easy this was, tipping from unsettled to irritated as he pushed the door handle down and shoved it open.

Inside was so fucking deafening, Karkat nearly staggered. The absolute silence of the hallway, only broken by the faint hum of fluorescent lights, gave way to a din so complete, it felt like a solid thing hitting him in his chest.

It was dark. It was dark enough Karkat remained in the doorway, unsure if the _floor_ was real or if-- if maybe Strider’s brain had somehow fucking torn a gap in the dream straight to the void. He wasn’t sure if that could happen. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he fell in.

He couldn’t even reason it out; in _seconds_ , his head started to throb, the sound like a chainsaw struggling to cut through a metal sheet, amplified and multiplied and sloppily layered over itself.

He swung the door shut and sagged against it, catching his breath, hands shaking.

It was quiet again.

Dave Strider had a room of relentless crashing noise and void in his head. Alright. Not the weirdest thing Karkat had ever seen, but it was certainly new.

After gathering himself, Karkat walked in. The doors around him seemed much more sinister now. He regret this. He deeply fucking regret suggesting this. Even if it was, as far he could tell, the only way. He wanted to be on his plane back home.

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself angrily. “Moult and move on, don’t be a wiggler.”

**== >**

A door: a sweltering empty rooftop of a human apartment building taller than any hivestem he’d seen, the wind whistling, sun brutal enough it made Karkat’s eyes fucking itch.

 

A door: a small room, the walls covered in writing; on his left were neat, even letters with small flairs and loops, and the words, _I think we might be related. You see I remember something, that I had a twin brother._

Ahead of him was significantly less legible with miswritten words marked out sporadically, the revision squeezed in above. _It sucks but when I get my license and car, Davey, I am DRIVING DOWN THERE and we are gonna take you HOME, ok?? Hang in there._

To the right, in handwriting that could’ve passed for a font, it was so uniform and tidy: _Rox told me about your situation. Enclosed is a ticket. I can pick you up from the bus stop, if you want. It’s your decision. I can’t promise we’re the best family, but I think (or hope, perhaps) we’re better than the one you got assigned._

 

A door: music, nothing but music, wrapping around Karkat’s mind like a heady balm after the noise from before, sweet and almost _sensual_ as it blended from one melody to the next, making him sway on his feet. He stood there for a moment, soaking it in, before flushing and hurriedly leaving.

 

A door: outside, under the shade of a tree, a long picnic bench covered in food and tall plastic pitchers of something Karkat suddenly and instinctively knew was sunshine tea, and a half-eaten cake, it’s cherry red frosting melting in the sun, dripping down the sides. Even the candles poked into the cake looked like they were wilting. And beyond the bench, a lake, down the hill, with people swimming. Two faces were familiar, and two looked similar enough that Karkat could hazard a guess.

 

A door: someone’s respiteblock. Definitely not Dave’s. The bed was undone, lavender sheets almost spilling onto the floor. Two tall, green glass bottles sat on the nightstand. Resignation and fear in his chest every time he took a breath.

 

A door, a door, a door. A dozen trespasses, each one sinking into Karkat like needles, pinning him down, his own body heavier with each discovery.

Something had to be here, _something_ had to explain it.

**== >**

Karkat walked to the bottom level, gritting his teeth as another guard waved casually at him as they passed. He hated this place. He just completely despised it. Which was _great_ since it was his own invention.

He had images and facts and stolen emotions wound into the tight, angry clench of his fists at his sides. Things no one was meant to know, and here he was, airing out everything, just to find the one piece he needed.

So, fuck it.

He headed to the final vault at the end of the bottom floor. The tile gleamed, the floors so shiny and untrodden, they reflected his own grimace back up at him. If he could avoid looking at himself for the foreseeable future, that’d be great. He already knew his future self would look back on this as one of his bigger mistakes. And Karkat had made plenty in his life.

The vault encompassed one whole wall on the bottom floor. Metal and heavy, and blocking the way to the only heartbeat Karkat could feel in the dream.

He’d known from the start he’d have to come here.

There was a large spin dial combination lock. If Karkat had planned ahead, he would control the combination, could spend a few minutes recalling it in the dream, bluh bluh.

He spin the lock one way, not bothering to look at the numbers, and stopped it. Spun it the opposite way, stopped it. Repeated the process a few more times, until something in the vault door unset, metal sliding against itself.

He reached out, seized the handle, and pulled the vault open.

It was the same bedroom from before, without the depressing open bottles around. The lights were brighter, the lamp on the bedside table turned on.

Rose was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, bent over a heavy looking box with industrial carry handles and latches. She was smiling, more genuinely than Karkat had seen from her before, her teeth neat and white and pressing just slightly into her bottom lip as she unlatched the top and pulled it off. “I never imagined he’d actually give it to me,” she said, voice almost breathy. “I couldn’t help but ask when he got his new PASIV to toy with.”

Dave was sitting over her on the edge of the bed, watching her as she toyed with what was clearly a homemade PASIV. His eyes were bare, and trained on her hands as she uncoiled two of the tubes from the housing. “And it works?”

“Of course. This is what Dirk and Roxy have been using for the past six months. They’ve just upgraded since and don’t need it.” She held out the tubes. “Hold these.”

Dave did, and Rose checked the infusion, ripped open a new package of needles, loaded the PASIV with more somnacin from a new bottle.

Karkat could barely breathe, but fuck, at least she was doing things _right_ he supposed. Or the memory of her was.

Dave watched passively as she prepared things, his mouth a calm flat line in comparison to her slowly blooming smile, the excitement clear in her face. “I’ve been reading about the dreamscapes, how you have to build them. I think I could even do it, though probably not very well. I know the theory and I’ve been working on something. I’m desperate to see if I can recreate it and show you. So I’ll be the dreamer and you’ll be the subject, okay?”

“Doesn’t that mean I’m filling it? With my brain people?” He reached out, put his hand over hers. “Rose, hey. What if… we wait for Dirk or Rox. They’ll be around next week, right, they can show us.”

“It’s not difficult, Dave,” Rose said, sighing. “I’m the one doing the hard part, the dream itself. You’re just populating it.”

“Dirk said projections can get violent.”

Rose looked up at him, and the hard look on her face softened with a sigh. She set the needles down and rose up, her hands on Dave’s shoulders. As she kissed his forehead, his eyes slid shut, hands falling limp, as if there was somnacin spread over her damn lips. He took a breath, let it go slowly.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Dave,” she told him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, eyes still shut.

When Rose pushed him back, down onto the bed, he went easily. She leaned over him, nails raking through his hair for a moment before she smiled and turned to pick up the needle.

Karkat snapped out of it all at once. His gun was in his hand, and he stepped into the room, the memory. “If you think I’m letting you put my dreamer under, shade, you’ve got another thing fucking coming at you, and it’s called a bullet.”

The moment he aimed at the Rose shade, the quiet suspense of the facility _ended._ Alarms ran out. The lights changed from soft white to red. Karkat looked down the hallway, at the guard patrolling this floor. They had their hand on their communicator, holding the button down on the little black box.

Karkat aimed and dropped them before ducking sideways, fitting his body against the frame of the vault door, out of direct sight from the hallway.

The shade was staring at him. She didn’t even seem angry. Just calculating. He relined up his shot with her chest. “Step away.”

Instead, she reached into the gap between her bed and the bedside table, and pointed her own gun at Karkat.

The reaction was instinctive, ground into him. He knew how to handle shades gone violent. He felt himself pull the trigger-- or…

He blinked. He thought he had, that he’d just pulled it and ended this, took the shade out. But he was still standing there, unsure. Something felt unsynched, a stuttered heartbeat.

Dave had a hand flung out, his eyes wide, mouth open. He was staring at Karkat. Oh, fucking _Time dreamers_ , what the _fuck,_ Dave Strider--

Both of his hands caught Rose’s wrist, pulling her grip, diverting her attention from Karkat. “Rose, _don’t_ , jesus fuck.”

She let herself be turned, looking at Dave as he sat next to her, holding her gun, staring up at her almost fucking _pleadingly._ That calculating look was still there, and Karkat stepped forward. “Dave, don’t touch her!”

The shade lifted her arm a little higher, and with a _fwip_ noise of a bullet through a silencer, Dave was dead, slumping back against the bed, hands falling loose from her.

Then she turned and fucking glared at Karkat, accusation writ large on her face in the two seconds before she vanished, so sudden, like she’d never been there at all.

Staggering forward a step, Karkat had the time to gasp, “What the _fuck_ ,” before he heard another gunshot and woke up.

* * *

**> Past Dave: Attempt some damage control here.**

 

Dave looked up as Vantas woke up.

He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, still laying with his head back against the chair. But he sighed. And that was enough.

Even Dave understood that had gone pretty fucking badly. “So,” he said, quietly. “Am I failed now?”

Vantas’ lip turned down hard at that, a frown marring his face. Taking his time, he rolled his head to face Dave, eyes half-opening. He did not look happy. Even more not-happy than he usually did.

Swallowing the sick feeling in his stomach, Dave climbed up to his feet, removing his needle mechanically. It was fine. He could go without it. He’d figure it out.

“No,” Vantas said, freezing Dave mid-motion. “No, I mean, if I thought for a singular fucking _second_ that would actually keep you out of dreamsharing, yes, I’d fail you in a goddamn heartbeat.”

There was a _but_ coming. Dave held his breath, waiting for it.

“But,” there it was, “Dave, getting into this industry for someone else is a bad fucking idea. You can’t.” He paused, long enough that Dave forced himself to turn to look at him. Vantas didn’t look pissed off anymore. Just tired. It wasn’t even noon and he looked exhausted. “You can’t pin everything on protecting her.”

He knew, peripherally, that wasn’t an unreasonable thing to say. It didn’t stop him from bristling. “Why not?”

“Because your mental security is _fucking broken_ ,” Vantas said, weirdly gentle if intent as a ballistic missile. “It does not protect you. And you want to go into a business where people root around in each others’ minds or outright _damage_ them for a paycheck?” He exhaled hard through his nose, and continued in an agonizingly earnest voice: “You’re going to end up hurt in a way you can’t come back from.”

 _Yeah, but_ was on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it down, and focused on the fact Vantas still hadn’t failed him. “So what do we do?”

Some of the tension in Vantas’ shoulders eased. He’d probably expected Dave to fight him more. Which, well. It wasn’t an unfair assumption. Part of Dave wanted to flip him off and stalk out of the room, go find his sister and put all this shit out of his mind.

But the rest of Dave saw Karkat Vantas giving him a chance he didn’t deserve, and for once in his life, he waited patiently.

“Nothing tonight,” Karkat said, finally sitting up and removing his needle. “I need to think. You continue to be a fucking wholly unique fucking situation for me to figure out. Congratulations on continuing your family’s legacy of innovation.”

“Fuck off,” Dave said amicably.

Karkat didn’t rise to the bait, just waved him off, his eyes distant. And once again, Dave hurried to leave before he could change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i deleted this by fatfingering the edit button on my tablet and noooow this is a repost. wow, i will never edit on mobile again.


	13. interludeilogue: after all this time, after all the ambulances go

**> Even-More-Past-Dave: Spend time with family.**

Dave was twenty and living with his brother-- not bro, but _brother_ \-- in Houston, carrying a bag of groceries home from the corner store. It was late summer, the season holding onto the South with its red-metal claws, unwilling to give way into the moderately cooler gasp of autumn. The entire city was covered in a mirage haze, every stretch of road more than thirty feet shimmering like something unreal. It was the kind of hot that made stepping into the stairwell leading up to Dirk’s apartment seem like a relief, just the cool air between concrete walls incredible compared to the beating sun outside.

It was late in the day, but not enough for the day’s heat to release its grip. Dave could feel it, like the entire city was holding its breath, waiting for the bubble to pop so they could all sigh in unison, even if they only wound up with about five to ten degrees of relief.

As soon as Dave got into the apartment, he dropped the groceries and reached up to tug his shirt off, annoyed with the way it was sticking to his spine.

While he was mid-strip, someone let out a wolf whistle, making him startle and step sideways into the wall. “Fuck, ow.”

Roxy’s laughter cut through the room. “Well, ain’cha just a beautiful creature of grace and tenacity.”

Grimacing, Dave tugged his shirt back on, the sweat-damp line uncomfortable against his skin. He found his older sister grinning at him in-- “Whoa, hello, you got a license for those?”

Roxy was standing shamelessly in one of her bras, a vibrant purple one with black stitching, and the most micro of microshorts, hands on her hips, grinning. “Nice to see you too, Dave. Dunno if you’re aware, but Texas is hot as a pig on a spit.”

“It always is this time of year.” He shielded his eyes with his hands, barely looking at Roxy through his fingers. She looked like a freckley underwear model and it was deeply fucking upsetting. “What are you doing here?”

“Making a fuckin’ nuisance of myself around my twin’s place. Making sure he knows what the fuck he’s doing,” she said, the last of it called over her shoulder.

Across the living room, Dirk was where Dave had left him, sitting at his breezeblock workbench with a tangle of wires, metal casings, and freshly-moulded plastic bits and pieces that were _someday_ going to be a Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device.

It probably should have been more unsettling, that Dirk was working on building something that could get him sent to prison. He insisted he knew what he was doing, though, so Dave tried not to worry about it, especially given how excited about it the rest of his family was.

Dirk looked up at Roxy and used his middle finger to nudge his goggles up his nose. “You say something, Rox?”

She smiled and bent to grab the bags of groceries. When Dave startled, sucking in a sharp breath and trying to grab them from her, she tutted loudly. “Easy, tiger, it’s okay. I don’t mind putting stuff away. Why don’t you hit the shower, cool off?”

Right. It was fine. Reassured he wasn’t in trouble or something, Dave shuffled away to rinse off. It was one of those rare occasions when a cold shower actually sounded _awesome_.

**== >**

Dirk continued to work on the bootleg PASIV into the evening, bent like a gargoyle over his work station, often with tools clenched between his teeth, like he needed another arm just to hold superfluous tools. Dave never liked bothering Dirk when he was busy on a project, even as day slid into night and back again. It was probably a bad idea to forgo, well, _everything_ but the work, but he also wasn’t about to disturb Dirk’s concentration.

Roxy had no such fucking issues. After helping Dave start dinner (just something easy in a carton they threw into the oven), she draped herself over Dirk’s back. He grunted, taking her weight without complaint as his hands continued to move.

They were very touchy. Dave tried not to stare.

“Can I fucking work, Roxanne?” Dirk muttered, the sound muffled by the three different sized screwdrivers between his lips.

“Oooooh, _Roxanne_ , now I’m trouble.” She prodded his shoulder sharply with a nail. “Forgive me for being concerned on how _you_ use _my_ blueprints.”

“Not sure if stealing them makes them yours,” Dirk opined.

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

“That phrase is from the fucking 1600s. Doesn’t really account for the information age and intellectual property law.”

Roxy rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around Dirk’s shoulders, reaching across him to hold his opposite arms. “Dirk, take a break and spend time with your sister, fuck’s sake.”

It was just that easy, apparently. Dirk nodded, set his tools down neatly, and shrugged Roxy off him. As he pushed his chair back, despite being on the other side of the room, Dave stepped back the same distance without even thinking about it. Then felt like shit about it because he didn’t _have_ to do that anymore.

He glanced up, just in time to see Roxy turn her head away again. She saw. He _knew_ she saw. But she mercifully didn’t say anything about it.

Dave liked her a lot, especially in moments like this.

There was something really weird about how Roxy changed the feeling of the apartment. When Dave had moved in, all of his shit crammed into an overstuffed backpack as he trailed behind Dirk into the new space, it took time for them to figure out how it’d even work.

Dirk had bought a futon for Dave, put it against the far wall in the living room. It was fine, and Dave was fine sleeping there. But Dirk always had _projects_ and often forgot the time, sitting up through the night. And his workbench was a foot away from the futon. And Dave never wanted to… be a bother or anything.

It’d taken Dirk about a week to change that. Dave came back to the apartment after going for a walk, and Dirk had swapped all their things around; Dave’s things were in Dirk’s room, and Dirk’s work area morphed into his bedroom space too.

Dave had a room with a door with a lock he was allowed to use anytime he wanted, and could go to sleep whenever he wanted instead of waiting for Dirk to realize the fucking time and retire.

It was a work in progress, and while Dirk was often weirdly oblivious of the shit going on around him, when he did catch a clue, he _fixed shit_. It was weird and incredible.

So, while the living room space always felt like _Dirk’s room_ , like Dave was maybe intruding, Roxy… clearly didn’t feel the same. She went through Dirk’s things, got on his laptop, stole one of his shirts when the temperature finally dropped enough to warrant more clothes, and generally shattered the idea of Dirk having defined space.

And Dirk… let her. Muttered a few times about ‘boundaries, you nosy broad,’ but never seemed to get nervous as she pawed through his stuff. Even leaned over her as she raided his personal music folders to point out new files.

Dave left the door to his room shut and hoped no one noticed. He wanted it, he wanted that kind of ease and familiarity, but _fuck_ , he felt like the fucking vital dino DNA in the amber, frozen in place and waiting for someone to come up with a safe way to extract that shit.

Roxy was amazing, but he wasn’t sure about her methods.

As dinner cooled, fresh out of the oven, Roxy grabbed a bottle of beer, then held up another to Dave in question.

“Uh,” Dave said eloquently.

“You can have _one_ ,” Roxy said, and churchkeyed open a bottle and handed it to him.

It… didn’t taste great. It was like drinking bread in the most disgusting way possible, wheaty and watery on his tongue, alleviated just barely by a citrusy note. Even swallowing was an effort. Roxy cackled at his face. “Beautiful. You’re a babe, Davey.” She turned to drag some of Dirk’s plasticky, chip-proof plates out of the cabinets, dishing out the baked ziti.

Dirk wandered into the narrow kitchen, and instantly focused on Dave’s beer. Plucking it swiftly out of his hand, he said, “He’s not twenty-one, Rox, come on.”

“When’d you start smoking, Dirk?”

Dirk tipped the liberated beer back, swallowing smooth and practiced, and flipped Roxy off amiably. “I don’t smoke anymore.”

“You’ve been saying that for years and I still find half packs by your bed.”

“I’m building you a PASIV.”

Roxy handed him a plate with a smirk. “I look forward to what excuse you’re going to use when you’re done with that.”

“I _built_ you a PASIV, Rox,” Dirk answered, retreating to the sofa. There wasn’t a dining area, the apartment was _way_ too small for that. Instead, they ate on the sofa and watched TV. It wasn’t the kind of family meal Dave had seen in the movies, but it was nice.

After, Dave did the dishes. Roxy looked ready to stop him, but then _looked_ at him, eyes sharp and way more observant than her lazy drawl and tipsy smile ever let on. She handed over her plate easily, made a joke about enjoying cute boys waiting on her, and made a nuisance of herself, reaching over Dirk to grab the keyboard hooked up to the TV.

Holy fuck, Dave loved his family.

After washing everything in the kitchen, then drying it all and putting it away, he felt better, and checked the living room. Maybe he’d just slip off to his room and leave them to it. He’d see Roxy in the morning, she wouldn’t be mad at him, and Dirk was used to Dave… being Dave.

But Roxy had fucking _PornHub_ on the TV and was saying excitedly, “See! I told you the tentacle empire has finally landed!”

There were some conversations you just couldn’t skip out on.

“What?” Dave moved to stand behind the sofa. “What are you talking about?”

Roxy cheerfully patted the cushion next to her. “So, _big news_ , it was all over every disreputable news site. Some brave, fearless soul scored a major friggin’ victory for humanity and uploaded like four terabytes of Alternian porn to every torrent site you can think of.”

“Bullshit,” Dirk said. “People have been reporting on that kind of thing for the past three years now. It’s never real.”

“Nah, someone finally got a… I dunno, a _transcoder_ to convert from troll bug format to good ol’ dot-MKV gold, and they put that shit up for all to see. They had to lock down the wikipedia entry on Alternian biology because all the fun new info people are trying to edit in. ‘pparently writing ‘some porno i watched’ as a cited source ain’t kosher.”

“So,” Dave said, sitting down again on Roxy’s left, pulling his legs up, a wall of leg between him and the TV screen, “we’re going to watch some? Is that the idea?”

Alternia and Earth (or _Terra_ if you were pretentious) had been in contact for ages now, but there were still pretty big gaps in communication. Less so all the time, as troll kids and human kids got cozy in interplanetary cyberspace, but there was still plenty of speculation about Alternian culture. They had a lot of weird shit going on, with a government somehow built around blood colors, some kind of symbiotic reproductive system, a totally different view of relationships, and… well.

There wasn’t troll porn. Or, _legitimate_ troll porn. Everyone knew it existed, but allegedly the process of making troll data storage play nice with human data storage meant _important cultural landmarks_ got priority. If it hadn’t gone up for a Troll Oscar, then forget it.

Now, Dave, Roxy, and Dirk scrolled through a playlist of the holy grail of interspecies curiosity.

“Where the fuck do we _start_?” Roxy asked.

“At the start?” Dirk suggested, sensible, pointing to the _Play All_ button.

“God, you’re boring.” She clicked it anyway, then turned off the mouse and keyboard, tossing them across the room. They clattered against the floor, well out of reach. “We are doing this, boys, we are _going in_.”

**== >**

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this about pornography,” Dirk murmured quietly during the third video, “but I wish there were subtitles.”

Dave nodded along. “No, totally agree.”

At the start, Dave had been worried about… about, okay, popping a stiffy while sitting a foot away from his older sister, because that would sure be a thing, and there was no way he could just excuse himself to have a cold shower right after having already taken one. It was a legitimate concern.

But soon all three of them were leaned forward on their knees, watching the screen like they were watching some high-intelligence crime caper and the solution was _right there_ , rather than porn. It needed the same level of attention. Dave was starting to put a few pieces together, though. Whether the set was decorated with red or black _really_ mattered, with red coming across as pretty standard late night Showtime grade fucking. It was maybe more romantic? Which was a strange thing to see in porn. Lots of face touching and lingering camera angles and this loud _chirpy_ noise, two happy crickets getting it on.

The black stuff was… almost more familiar in a way that made Dave shift uncomfortably. Hair pulling, people being pushed around, some shit that made Dave avert his gaze. More bug noises, but angrier, higher pitched.

“What’s the spades thing?” Roxy whispered during one prolonged scene of trolls grappling as they grinded against each other. “Nemesis thing?”

“Something like that,” Dirk said.

Then there was the porn that wasn’t porn at all. It was _shot_ like porn, the cinematography carrying that same voyeuristic quality, but the trolls were fully clothed and sitting together on a pile of soft looking pillows. One had his hand wrapped around the other’s horn, holding her against his clavicle. She had her eyes shut and was _definitely_ purring, what the hell. Dave kept waiting for them to strip and get to the fucking, but the trolls just smiled at each other, besotted, as the camera faded to black.

“Huh,” Dirk said. “They have porn of the bromance quadrant. That’s interesting. Do they jerk off to that or is it like…”

“Maybe it’s like the porn version of a hug,” Dave offered.

“I really want subtitles, seriously,” Dirk reiterated as the next video on the playlist started. It already had almost a million views.

It was another red one, which was maybe the most uncomfortable kind to watch since it was familiar. Except for, oh yeah, _the alien dicks_. Those sure were a thing. There were a lot of vibrantly colored types of alien junk; the presence of breasts-- which, didn’t look like human breasts, there just seemed to be some padding up there for some trolls, they didn’t even have nipples, _weird_ \-- didn’t indicate anything about what was between their legs. Dirk used the phrase, “lack of sexual dimorphism.” Which Dave guessed was the polite way of saying, _shit, they all got tentacle dicks and apparently alien vaginas too?_

Also, the reasons trolls called it _pailing_ became obvious pretty quick too.

An hour into the playlist, Roxy asked, as if continuing a conversation instead of bringing it up after twenty minutes of rapt, silent watching, “Okay, can we all just admit we’d _all_ tap an alien booty if given the chance? Can we just acknowledge this truth in the safe company of our loved ones?”

“Yeah,” Dave blurted, then felt his face flush red. Shit, what if she was joking, shit, his fucking _mouth_ sometimes.

“Yes, obviously,” Dirk chimed in. “Even if this stuff wasn’t oddly compelling in ways I am not going to articulate to blood relations, I feel like it’d be an important scientific pursuit besides. As a species, we owe it to intellectual inquiry to accept the offer should it ever arise in our personal lives.”

“And it’d be hot,” Roxy said.

“And it’d be hot, yeah. Unless it was the yellow one. That’s way too much like mustard for me, it’s a turn off.”

“From my _very_ basic understanding of their caste system, I’m pretty sure that makes you, like, classist or something.” She pointed to the screen. “Purple, though, that’s a _nice_ color.”

“Aren’t they royalty?” Dave pointed out.

“No idea.” She took a deep swig of her beer as the trolls on screen twined their tentadicks together and got extra frisky. “I bet I have a chance.”

Dirk sighed deeply, sounded pained. “With the foreknowledge that he would live to regret this moment until the last gasp of life left his body, he asked his sister: How do you figure?”

“Bisexual. I got all the skills they’d want in a human fuckbuddy.” She held out her hand to him, waggling her fingers. Dirk leaned in to look, and snorted at something. Dave wasn’t sure what.

“And there’s the regret, yep.” A few more minutes of alien sex filled the silence. Then, Dirk said, “I could do it. Notice how they never go down on each other? I think it’s the teeth thing.”

 _What the fuck_ , Dave thought to himself even as his mouth was opening, because his internal filter was so non-existent, he said terrible shit before he was even done thinking it. “Could bet on it.”

Roxy and Dirk both turned to look at him, and Dave wanted to crawl under the coffee table and hide. Only when Roxy’s face split into a grin did he remember to breathe.

“Oh my god. _Yes_. Let’s make this a fucking contest of conquest. First one to bag some Alternian ass.”

“What’s the reward?” Dirk asked. “Or forfeit?”

She looked at Dave, who shrugged. “No idea,” Roxy said. “The knowledge of your own superiority over the rest of the family?”

“Ten bucks,” Dave said. It didn’t feel right if there wasn’t _something_ on the table.

“Fifty,” Dirk said, and held out his hand. Roxy reached out instantly and shook it. Then Dave reached across her to do the same.

After, they all settled back to watch the tail end of the video in respectful silence.

“We just made a bet over who can fuck an alien fastest,” Dirk mumbled. “We can never tell Rose.”

“Oh, _jesus_ , no,” Dave agreed.

 

* * *

 

**> Dave: Spend time with family.**

In the late afternoon, Dave borrowed Karkat’s car and drove himself into Seattle. It was freezing out, enough so that he kept holding his hands up against the A/C vents as they blasted canned but blissfully warm air in his direction. It was November, not even the coldest part of the year yet. Dave was giving serious thought to hibernation. Call him Punxsutawney and leave him the fuck alone until February, and he’d be happy.

It took something significant to make him brave the winter chill. Today, he had a date with Rose in the city. The first time he’d seen her since he left to catch the red eye to Seattle.

She wasn’t staying long; she was on her way back to New York after visiting Kanaya, and had asked if Dave wanted to meet up. It was, for once, really a question. It was still something Dave was learning, not just going along with Rose’s directions.

It wasn’t like he was a pushover or was incapable of thinking for himself. But… it was complicated, and still something Dave wasn’t good at directly thinking about. As he drove, he drummed his fingers restlessly on the wheel, already kind of wishing he was back home and lazing around in front of the TV.

But there were limits to even his cowardly bullshit, and Dave followed the GPS to the place Rose had picked out. It was a pretty swish place that smelled strongly of roasted coffee and had an actual _tree_ growing inside. All the windows made the place kind of chilly given the weather, but it was fine; he could leave his jacket on. Karkat might’ve been right about how Dave needed to buy “a decent fucking winter padding before you freeze and I decide to use you as a particularly tasteless statue in the garden, a testament to human stupidity for all to see. I’ll call it the Folly of Humans and charge five bucks admission, let everyone bask in the glory of your idiocy. Buy a fucking coat.”

Rose had a coat. It was crushed velvet, a purple so dark it was nearly black. She also had one of those puffball hats on her head that Dave had never seen out of spy films and old Hollywood movies with the glamourous deadly pseudo-Russian villains. She looked warm.

Also: nervous.

There was a stutter to her movement as she stood over him, a half-step towards him before she stopped hard. “There you are. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

She wasn’t going to, he knew it, so Dave stood and put his arms around her, feeling the way she sighed in relief against his chest. “Nice hat. You steal it from the USSR?”

“Kanaya, actually,” Rose said. She lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek before taking the wrought iron chair across from him, draping her coat over the back and taking off the hat. He eagerly took it; it was as fuzzy at it looked. Awesome. It went on his own head, of course. “We were in Moscow for a while. They have one of the transplanted maternal Alternians there to see if they can breed in Terran environments.”

“And _Russia’s_ got one?”

“Several countries do. Everyone wants to make nice with the Alternians right now. Access to their information and technology is highly sought for.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Kanaya doesn’t really care for the politicking around it, but it seems her blood caste are considered the caretakers for these mother grubs, so she likes to keep an eye on things. And it would be a powerful bridge between our peoples if trolls could successfully reproduce here instead of having to return home.”

“How the fuck does a species evolve to reproduce through… symbiosis or whatever?”

Rose shrugged, smiling in that pleased way she always did when Dave was curious about things. “That is still privileged information, apparently. There are plenty of theories, but.” She paused when the waiter appeared, and ordered. She ordered for them both, briskly.

It was only after the waiter stepped away that she froze, realizing what she’d done. Her eyes cut to him, wide and uncertain.

“I’m fine with the lamb thing, Rose, relax,” he told her quietly.

“I-- I remembered you enjoyed something similar when we were in Perth, I just…” She shut her eyes, took a breath. “How about you? How’s… living with Karkat going?”

It was the worst segue Dave had ever seen, but fucking anything was better than the weird guilt in her face. “Smooth. Uh, good? He’s got this huge house he has no idea what to do with and, jesus, if people knew his taste in movies, no one would ever respect him again. I made the fucking mistake of insulting _The Proposal_ the other day and he went off for like an _hour_. Trolls don’t even _have_ human concepts of marriage, but _holy fuck_ does he have a lot of opinions on immigration, you have no idea.”

The tension in her face melted away into a bemused smile. “You knew about his… habits before coming.”

“Yeah, but about the _biz_ , not about Ryan Reynolds’ character arc.” He shrugged. “It’s good, though. And he’s not always like that. It’s quiet out there.”

“And that’s what you wanted?”

Dave nodded.

Drinks arrived, both in mugs. Dave sipped his mocha, letting it spread warmth down his chest. Rose curled her hands around her tea, teeth pressed against her lip as she thought. “He’ll be leaving soon. I saw the latest bulletin. Or, _your_ latest.”

“Keepin’ busy. And it’s nice to be the good cop to someone’s bad cop.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Her words came slow, like she was trying to hold them back and failing syllable by syllable. A pink flush was coming over her cheeks. “Two weeks is a long time to be alone.”

“Won’t be,” Dave said. “Don’t worry about it.”

It was plain in her face, how she wanted to know more, wanted him to tell her everything. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t hear eventually; when Dave showed up with Karkat for the new session of tests, people were going to talk, they always did. But for the moment, Dave wanted it to be his.

Clearing her throat, Rose nodded. “So. Roxy is going to drag Dirk to the ranch house. Calliope isn’t handling Houston well and Roxy is not letting Dirk stay on his own yet.”

“Oh shit,” Dave murmured. “Dirk is a full blown city mouse, does Rox realize this? He’s going to be a whiny asshole the entire time he’s there.”

“Absolutely. She told me she plans on hiding the keys to the truck so he doesn’t try to escape. Maybe set some traps.”

“Well, that’ll keep him happy for a while at least.” Rose laughed softly, and Dave smiled. He could do this.

Rose talked about the fancy dress parties that Kanaya had brought her to, the food, and the snippets of Alternian culture she’d learned, including more about the whole rainbow drinker thing. When Dave asked if Kanaya drank human blood, Rose hedged _hard_ in a way that made Dave want to never ever ask again.

In return, Dave talked about the dire fucking state of Karkat’s Netflix queue, the seals that kept flopping around on the rocky beach near the house, and how terrible the troll version of CSS was, how Dave was recoding the entire fucking roster to not be a pile of trash.

The lamb burger with lemon aioli was good, though not as good as the mushroom and ramp soup Rose got that Dave stole like five spoonfuls of. He didn’t know what the fuck a _ramp_ was, but it tasted brothy and savory.

After another round of drinks, Rose paid the bill and linked her arm through Dave’s as they left. He swayed into her and adjusted her snowpuff hat on his hair. It probably looked weird given his hair was half white-blond and half shockingly dark at the roots, but it genuinely kept him warmer.

“My car’s this way,” Dave said, nodding.

“I took a taxi,” Rose said. “I’m staying at a hotel. Until my flight on Thursday.”

It hung between them. Dave had mentioned Karkat’s huge house. It had spare rooms, and Rose was staying an hour and a half drive away in the city.

“Lemme drop you off there,” Dave said. “‘Less you’re gonna go be an obnoxious tourist or something.”

A sigh slipped from her mouth, and she rested her head against his arm for a moment, until their steps jostled her away. She inhaled sharply-- no, Dave realized with a pang, she _sniffled_. He whipped his head to the side to look down at her.

“Oh, _stop_ ,” she murmured softly, her free hand sweeping over the dark line of her eye. “It was awful of me to even imply otherwise, I'm so used to-- to _volunteering_ you. I’m… Dave.” She slowed to a stop, holding him so he would turn to her. It was hard to meet her eyes, bright and swimming as they were. _He did that to her_. “I’m not handling this as well as I should be, and I’m sorry. I know this is how things have to be, for-- for now or maybe from _now on_. I understand.”

“Rose, it’s _fine_ ,” Dave said quickly. His sister was crying, _shit_.

“No, it’s not. You stood by me for _years_ and I never knew you were hurting. Now it’s my turn to--” She shook her head, frowning. “To pull myself the fuck together and be there for you. Even if that means not being _here_ for you.”

There was something in his throat, making it hard to breathe or say anything. “I’m sorry,” he managed, voice thick and uncomfortable.

“ _Don’t._ ” She took his arm again and started walking again. “I’m trying not to tell you what to do anymore, but don’t you _dare_ apologize to me.” She took her hat off his head, jammed it back on hers. “Now drive me to my hotel.”

“Okay,” he whispered, shifting her grip on his arm so he could take her hand, linking their fingers together.

**== >**

Later, Rose leaned across the car to kiss Dave’s cheek, and walked away, leaving him to rest his head against the wheel until he was ready to go.

When he got home, Karkat was doing laundry, glaring impotently at the numerous settings on the washer like it was a bomb he was destined to fail to defuse. As soon as Dave found him, his expression smoothed out. “Hey. You were gone a while.” His brow furrowed. “You okay?”

Dave nodded, leaning on the doorway to the laundry room. It smelled strongly of fabric softener, Mountain Fresh as fuck, so stereotypically domestic it felt like foreign land, like he'd walked into Pleasantville and was the only poor bastard still seeing in color. “Yeah. Went all the way to the city. Had lunch with Rose.”

Karkat’s whole body stilled, like someone hit the pause button on him for just a second, before he looked Dave over, eyes narrow and concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked again, softer.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” And he was, if a little… tired. Even so, he shuffled over to Karkat and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his cheek against the back of Karkat’s neck. When he leaned a little, Karkat shifted his feet, took his weight easily, hand curling around Dave’s elbow securely.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Karkat grumbled. “You said you’d make a human pot roast today.”

A laugh huffed out of Dave. “Dude. You can’t say it like that, you make it sound like we’re cannibals.”

“Whatever.” His claws dragged up and down Dave’s arm, slow and steady.

Dave shut his eyes, and caught his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "lucy why does dave have the power to cook in every fic you write"
> 
> cause listen, rose never fucking learned to cook because its not interesting enough for her, and dirk would subsist on instant food his entire life if you let him, and roxy is phenomenal at like 10 recipes and _nothing else_ , so someone in this family needs to be able to make a meal.
> 
> also, opinions: would "roxy" be short for the obvious "roxanne" or something similar but not directly correlated like "racquel" or "rochelle". i think "roxanne" because i think The Police are deeply entrenched in roxy's music playlists.


	14. epilogue four: the dead light of the afterglow

**> Past Karkat: Fix this.**

Karkat did not want to do this.

For most of the afternoon, he consulted the Project reports for the information he needed. Then, he spent the entire evening sitting in his suite with his head leaning heavily in one hand, watching the snowfall outside.

The facts:

Dave Strider had fundamentally broken dreams, actively detrimental subconscious security, and a shade living in his head.

There were scattered pieces of old traumas adorning a worrying amount of his mind, like someone had smashed a bottle and just left the barbs and glass daggers strewn over the floors, begging to be stepped on.

His security only protected his shade, and Karkat _assumed_ Lalonde herself.

Nothing was going to stop Dave from working in dreamsharing.

All that added up to a really bad picture. If Dave went to work in dreamsharing in his current state, he was going to get hurt. And Karkat wasn’t sure if he had the subconscious fortitude to survive it.

Karkat knew what had to be done. The only way he knew how to fix it.

But, fuck, he did not want to do this.

**== >**

Day three, and Dave was as punctual as the last two days, this time arriving halfway through eating a breakfast sandwich in grease paper. He stood with his arms tucked in tight against his sides, and Karkat was pretty sure he was shivering; he probably ventured out to get food. Humans were so delicate in face of pretty basic aspects of their homeworld.

There was a strong urge to loan him a blanket. Karkat ground it under his heel.

“You got a prescription for my dream affliction, Vantas?” Dave balled up the wrapper of his food and underhanded it neatly into the bin.

“Yeah,” Karkat said on a sigh. “We’re going on shade removal duty.”

This was a point where Dave could have made shit difficult. Karkat was already prepared to go twenty rounds with him on this, prepared a lot of words on necessity and inherent dangers and not being a petulant wiggler. But Dave sat down heavily in a chair, tipping his head back, and sighed. “I do this,” he said, quiet and serious, “and you clear me.”

“You’re not really in a position to make demands.”

“And Karkat fucking Vantas doesn’t give people _third chances_.” He flashed his eerie red eyes at Karkat over his glasses, red and white and bright as a spotlight. “This is the last one.”

Karkat glared, but flipped the PASIV open. “You do this the right way, do as I say, and fine, yeah, you’re cleared. But if not, we’re done. You’re not getting on the roster and I’m making an example out of you.”

“Fine,” Dave agreed. “Let’s get this over with.”

At least that they agreed on.

**== >**

Karkat dreamt in grey hallways. Dim lights, the quiet gust of air through the vents, and metal doorways. It looked like a ward, or a prison. It was quiet and empty, but for humans in labcoats wandering around, all very busy, all very eager to get where they were going.

He followed the heartbeat to a room. It was just another metal door, but it had a small sign above the doorknob. Another piece of metal had been fastened there, with Karkat’s sign. It nearly blended it, the dull silver on dull silver, only perceptible by the shape of the thing, not the color.

The door locked from the outside. For a second, Karkat considered that, but… no. That wouldn’t work in the end.

Opening the door, he found Dave in his room. Utilitarian and pretty fucking boring: a small bed, his husktop, some books, and an empty closet. Karkat had always kept his things in his duffle bag, in case he had to leave quickly.

Dave was on his bed, but sat up the moment Karkat opened the door. “Where the fuck is this?”

Karkat did not consider the weirdness of Dave subconsciously placing himself in Karkat’s space. Now wasn’t the time. “Project headquarters. I’m not an architect, so I use places I know. Maybe you would have preferred a dream trip to Alternia?”

“Isn’t rule number one of architecting to avoid places you know?” He swung his legs off the bed, hopped to his feet. “Else you’ll lose track of reality?”

“For everyone else, yeah, it’s rule one,” Karkat said. “Not for me.”

“Well, aren’t you a special snowflake.”

It was not the time to divulge sensitive details about his dreamer class. “Let’s go. We have to find your shade.”

Dave nodded slowly. “You got a place in here that’s full of classified information or other shit my nosy sister would like?”

**== >**

The central computer lab was unfortunately and weirdly empty. It’d been the place everyone had gone after each experiment, settled down in front of each of their computers to type up their thoughts and observations. The annoying thing about dreamsharing experiments was that they were _dreams_ , and that annoying fucking thing where the details began to slip away from you the moment it ended made accurate documentation a pain in the fucking globes. Especially since the overseers didn’t want them to discuss _anything_ before their initial reports went in. Karkat could hardly turn in his chair and ask Terezi if she remembered what had happened in Level Two or anything; it’d _taint the objective observations of the dreamers_ bluh fucking bluh.

The lab was empty. Even the technician’s desk was quiet. It made Karkat’s skin crawl; the Project wasn’t prone to leaving _anything_ unattended, paranoid about the Dreamers messing with shit in the off hours.

“Okay, well, that’s a bust…” Karkat trailed off sharply as… he felt something. Weird, but familiar. The sense that he just forgot what he was doing. He shook his head, lifting a hand to his temple.

“Rose, _don’t!”_ Dave shouted, and Karkat felt himself pushed, stumbled to the ground, behind one of the terminals. A shot rang out.

The slide-skip in his brain made sense. Time rewind. The shade took a shot at him, and Dave reversed it. Well, Karkat guessed that made them even. Nice to know Dave cared about him at least as much as a fucking _shade_.

But fuck, fuck, fuck him sideways, the shade was _already_ violent. Shades always went rogue. They _always_ turned into a fucking walking subconscious disaster. Fuck.

He felt Dave next to him, trying to get up. Karkat reached out and grabbed his elbow, holding him still. “Down, stay fucking down.”

“She won’t hurt--”

“ _Do not finish that sentence, you fucking deluded shitbag._ ” Troll Jesus fucking save him from what passed for Dave Strider’s _logic_. He shoved Dave further under the terminal and twisted up, onto his feet in a crouch. Pistol in hand, he waited.

When it was quiet, he bit his lip, and peeked around the corner.

Door was ajar. Okay.

“She’s gone. We have to get after her.”

Dave didn’t answer; Karkat turned, grabbed him and pulled him up and to his feet. “ _Dave?”_ he asked, sharp and staring into Dave’s eyes. Or, the approximate location.

“I heard you,” Dave said. “Let’s go.”

There was only one problem with that. It became readily apparent when they left the computer room and two labcoated humans looked up at them, sharp and furious.

Because they’d threatened the shade, threatened Rose. God-fucking-dammit.

Karkat lifted his arm and-- _bang, thud, bang, thud_ \-- both of them hit the ground. “Okay, well, fuck, we’re now in the middle of a dream with violent projections.”

Behind him, Dave exhaled hard. “My own projections. Right. Awesome.”

“Welcome to the worse case scenario: your security doesn’t give a shit about _you_. Just keep your eyes open for--”

Behind him, Dave fired; Karkat turned and watched another projection fall. “Yeah,” Karkat said. “Yeah, you get it, okay, let’s just go.”

“Yeah.”

**== >**

What Karkat was expecting was a long game of squeak creature vs meowbeast. The Project HQ was a good setting for it, plenty of twisty pathways and quiet rooms to hide in. It could’ve easily turned into a fucking mess of a chase, especially with the projections set off.

Then, Dave took point, stepping neatly ahead of Karkat and leading the way. Even though it was what he was here for, the extractor/pointman certification, Karkat had yet to _see_ him in action. All of it got set aside given the unprecedentedly fucked up situation.

But Dave moved like something sleek and poisonous. Silent footsteps, steady hands, and something unfolding over his face like an opaque carapace. Another rewind made something in Karkat’s temple throb, like the headache after being woken from a nap. It was still incredible and terrifying to witness, like watching Aradia always had been. Time dreamers, holy shit.

It was Dave who spotted the shade around a corner, glancing back at them.

It was Karkat who stepped out into the hallway, skirting around Dave, and shot her in the leg.

“What the _fuck_!” Dave instantly moved towards her, gun lowering, a rictus of pain on his own face like he’d been shot.

Karkat fisted his hand in the back of Dave’s jacket and yanked him backward; it was harsh, one sharp pull making Dave stumble almost to the floor, hand bracing himself to prevent the fall. There wasn’t any time to worry about that. Karkat hurried forward and kicked the shade’s gun out of her grip. It skittered down the hallway.

The shade looked up at him, lips pressed white together, eyes narrow and furious. So much fury coming out of those pale, Imperial eyes made something in Karkat’s gut clench in visceral, desperate fear. He ignored it. This wasn’t Alternia.

“Karkat, what the hell,” Dave snapped, rejoining him.

“Dave,” the shade said as her dreamer approached.

“ _Don’t speak_ ,” Karkat snarled at her. “You want to keep your other knee, you keep fucking _quiet_.”

She rolled her eyes despite the pain, a bead of sweat running down her face.

“Okay, we caught her, now what?” Dave asked. He was tense again, tight and worried, his eyes flicking between Karkat and the shade.

Right.

Here was the bad part.

He pulled Dave back, careful to check the hallways for more projections. In a way, Karkat wanted more to show up, for the dream to be more populated so they could have-- fuck, so _he_ could put this off.

Dave was watching him, quiet and suspicious. He was stalling, and Dave knew it, and it was almost captivating to see the nervous twinge start in his jaw and spread down into his shoulders, how he just twisted himself up right before Karkat’s eyes.

It was all a mistake. He should’ve just failed him.

“You need to shoot her,” Karkat said.

Dave didn’t move.

Fuck dammit. Karkat swallowed around the tightness in his throat. “I can’t remove _your_ shade from _your_ head. If I could, I would. But it doesn’t work like that. You have to be the one to do it.”

“Fuck you,” Dave spat, taking a step away. “This entire fucking runaround you’ve dragged me into, what? What, is it because my family? Am I your last chance to fuck with all of us, can’t resist that, can’t have anyone who doesn’t march to your tune--”

Dave’s jacket felt solid in Karkat’s hands. Pushing him against the wall, jostling him, Karkat could feel the human’s heartbeat against his body, the way it was picking up, panic speeding it along. “ _Listen to me._ That is not your sister and this is not personal.” Which felt like a lie the moment he said it, but he _couldn’t_ handle that right now. This wasn’t about _him_. “You need to let it go or you’re going to get hurt.”

Dave scoffed.

Karkat said, “You’re going to get Rose hurt.”

Dave’s head jerked up, and this close Karkat could see the faint outline of his eyes through the glasses, right on him. “I’m not going to hurt her,” he said like it was a talisman, quiet and so desperately young.

“Your security only protects Rose. So what happens if your shade ever finds her? What if you’re on a job and your shade decides she doesn’t like to _share_?” He could feel Dave’s breathing, coming harder and faster. “Your entire mind turning on her. If you’re lucky they’ll only kill her. Projections can be _vicious._ ”

“That _won’t happen_ , Karkat, jesus, I wouldn’t…” His mouth twisted, a hard breath coming from between his lips, hitched and awful.

“Your shade would. Will. She isn’t under your control, Dave, you _know_ that.” He shook Dave again, more gently this time. “Everything you are doing is for Rose. This included, I promise.”

His head turned, slowly, to look at the shade over Karkat’s shoulder.

“What if,” Dave said, voice trembling. “No, I-- I can’t, I _can’t_ , it’s…”

Yeah, Karkat kind of assumed that. He pulled Dave away from the wall and guided him, drawing him around to face the shade where she sat against the opposite wall, her hand clutching her leg, blood pooling. Under his hands, Karkat could feel the tremor in Dave’s body.

“I know,” Karkat said, settling behind Dave, hands on his shoulders. “But it’s not her. It’s a figment. It’s a figment that will only grow in power and cruelty if you let it stay.” He squeezed tightly, heard the swallowed _desperate_ noise in Dave’s throat. “I know what I’m asking you, but fuck, Dave, this really fucking is the _only_ goddamn way, okay? You need to get rid of her and let your mind refocus on _you_ , or you’ll get yourself or your sister killed.”

“Shut up,” Dave said, low and tense and angry. “Stop, I understand, I _get it_ , just shut up.”

Karkat winced. He really couldn’t. “It’s-- it’s not just shooting her. You have to get _rid_ of her. Don’t hold onto her anymore. Don’t bring her back. After this, you will get to see your _real_ sister and dream with _her_. You don’t need another one living in your head.”

With a sound like he’d been punched, Dave nodded, his entire body tight like a cord about to break. Karkat rubbed his hands up and down his arms, _trying_.

Dave tried to aim one-handed. His pistol shook too much, even when he braced with the other hand. “Shit,” he muttered.

The shade was staring up at him, her pale eyes wide and pleading. Dave’s aim shook more.

Fuck it. Just fuck it.

Karkat closed one hand around Dave’s wrist, steadying him, and put his other hand over Dave’s eyes, pushing his glasses up into his hair before folding his palm across the bridge of his nose, feeling the way his eyelashes flickered. He ignored the dampness.

He thought he’d have to coax Dave more, but he just inhaled, his chest moving against Karkat’s, and fired.

Done.

The gun fell to the ground, loud against the tile floors. Dave’s entire body flinched at the noise, a sharp gasp knocking loose from him. He reached up, both hands pressing against Karkat’s, holding Karkat even more securely over his eyes as he sucked in shuddering breaths.

It was just in time. Karkat’s attention was torn away as another projection circled the corner, wandering right into the scene.

The human in the labcoat looked at the two of them, at the spot where the shade had been a moment before, then back at them again.

In the moment of truth, the projection just stood there, watching them. It didn’t twist its face into a snarl, didn’t reach for its gun, didn’t go ballistic and murder them. Just stood.

Karkat let out a breath, and dared to rest his forehead against the back of Dave’s head.

“Wake me up,” Dave said miserably.

It was the least Karkat could do.

**== >**

Karkat woke up to Dave already yanking out his needle, dropping it carelessly to the floor. He turned in the chair, body bending, curling with his legs tucking up. His face was nearly pressed into the armrest, he made himself so small.

A terrible, awful choked sound came out of him.

Karkat got up, pulled out his needle without much more care, and dropped to the ground next to Dave’s chair. “Dave.”

Dave just shook his head, silent, hands pressed against his face, fingers splayed like he was trying to cover as much as possible. He was nothing but tremors, like he might come apart right there.

For a moment, Karkat just knelt by his chair, repeating a senseless stream of soothing noises and petting the awkwardly folded bend of Dave’s leg. His breathing got hard, broken, deep gasps between shuddering exhales. He was curled up too tightly. With almost clinical detachment, Karkat recognized he wasn’t giving himself room to really inhale and might hyperventilate.

“C’mere. Dave, shh, here, you need to breathe, here,” Karkat murmured, tugging gently but firmly. Before long, Dave went, almost falling right onto the floor. Karkat caught him, wrapped both arms around him and fit Dave against his chest, keeping him from curling up too tight again. “ _Breathe_ , it’s okay, but you need to take a breath.”

It was fucking agony to hold onto Dave Strider as he cried himself hoarse. It felt like an even worse trespass than the extraction. At least then Dave had agreed, had known what Karkat was going to do.

Now, he just cried, unable to even speak, and Karkat shut his eyes and held on.

* * *

 

**> Past-Dave: Break it all.**

Dirk was right: showers could improve any situation.

Dave was in a fancy-ass hotel with a water heater to match, and he could stay under the blissfully hot pounding downpour forever if he wanted. He kind of did, actually, want to. Just stay right there with his eyes shut, letting the water pelt him and sluice everything away. Including him. Just wash it all down the fucking drain.

But then what the hell was all of it for?

He needed to call Rose at some point to tell her he’d passed. She’d be happy. Dave was aware she’d spent the past day or so worried because Dave hadn’t been cleared just yet, and the implications of that.

She was going to ask what happened, and expect the whole story. Most of the time, Dave kind of loved that about her, how she pulled all of it out of him, the good and the bad, and wanted all of it. He’d never had that before Rose.

If he let her, she could take this too, lift it from him and force it to make sense.

The idea of telling her was huge. Insurmountable. Sisyphus and the fucking boulder. At least with Karkat, he was _there for it_ , there was nothing to tell.

Karkat.

That son of a bitch had all the fucking power. _Oh, Strider, I’m not going to pass you, I’m going to drag you through this awful fucking circus of bullshit with a grand finale of shooting your sister,_ then _turn you loose like I’ve done you a favor._

He was _trying._ He was trying so hard not to hold it against Karkat, but it was difficult. He knew that he couldn’t’ve gone into the business without this, but felt like watching someone else making stupid mistakes in a horror movie. Laughing at some asshole who wanted to split up the gang in the spooky forest was easy until it was your shoes on the ground and you were the asshole all along.

He was pissed at Karkat. God, he was so pissed.

Dave grit his teeth and rested his head against the tiled wall until his body stopped feeling numb.

**== >**

By the time Dave put himself back together, managed to get dressed and clean his glasses and get himself out of his room, it was the weird part of the day that was way too late for lunch but still hours before a sensible dinner time. It was obvious from the way the hostess hesitated as she seated him before asking him which of the menus he’d like to see.

He decided he wanted the dessert menu.

He ordered the coffee creme brulee, because he’d never had a creme brulee before, and the molten chocolate cake, because it came with Bailey’s ice cream which sounded awesome.

There was something really satisfying about taking his spoon to the shiny sugar top of the brulee thing and just cracking it. The sound felt good, and he broke the layer into as many pieces as he could just for the chipped noise. It tasted like sugar, which was less exciting, but that was fine. Dave knew he didn’t have a sophisticated palette. His palette would’ve been bullied by all the other more hoity-toity palettes at the fancy arts school it wound up in on a scholarship. It was a fucking tragedy.

Chocolate cake was way more his speed.

He’d only just broken the cakey shell to let the hot chocolate inside drip out onto the plate when Karkat joined him, helping himself to the seat across the table.

Holy fuck, the tangled emotion in Dave’s chest had _knives_ , dragging slow pain against his ribs and his throat. It dug in a bit as Dave forced himself to look at him.

“Hey,” Karkat said. He voice was like two octaves lower and three decibels softer than Dave had yet heard. If the bistro was even a little more busy, had a little more ambient noise, he’d be inaudible. “Sorry to… I know you don’t want to see me, and this’ll be the last of it. I’m checking out tomorrow anyway.”

Dave didn’t say anything, just put another bite of cake in his mouth. It was much harder to chew now. He kept _thinking_ about it, how this guy had held onto him as he fucking bawled his goddamn eyes out and helped him back to his feet after the hiccups stopped.

The weird hard, lowkey pissed off atmosphere that had followed Karkat around like a cloud was gone. The hardness was gone from his eyes, and Dave wanted to yell in his face or hit him, anything to make him be a surly asshole again. He didn’t want _this._

Instead of all that, Dave scooped up a borderline gross helping of the melty chocolate and shoved it in his mouth. It was warm against his tongue and he sucked at it, trying to occupy himself with that.

Karkat sighed softly. “Well. At least you’re doing this with awful human sweets instead of soporifics. Less likely to fuck with the residual somnacin.” He blinked, some kind of clarity in his eyes. “Or… you don’t drink at all, what the fuck am I saying?”

Dave tugged the spoon out of his mouth. There was still way too much chocolate on it. He was kind of regretting the entire cake now. Maybe it was meant to be split between people. “I don’t, huh.”

“Or, usually? I saw it in your… It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, looking fucking uncomfortable. Good. “I just caught random glimpses of things.”

“So is that how this goes,” Dave asked dully. “You just walk out of this with a fuckton of my personal info in your head? Do I got to worry about my social knocking around in there?”

“Your… no. It’s part of extraction, that’s all.” He looked down at his hands on the table, mouth twisting unhappily. “It’ll fade. I won’t remember half this shit tomorrow, and none of it by the end of the week.”

“Sweet. Is that what you crashed my dessert party to tell me, or?”

Karkat’s eyes flicked up to his face, then away again. His shoulders moved, like he was about to sigh again, but stopped. “I put you through something painful and I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s presumptuous and I’m an asshole, the tales are all true, bluh bluh.”

“Call the presses, we’ve got a breakin’ story here.” He didn’t even _think_ about it, just said it, easy as breathing.

Karkat still didn’t react, and it was just pissing Dave off more. “Yeah, well… I’ll go. I’ll actually go update the roster so you and Lalonde are on it.” He stood, stiffly, looking like he wanted to say something else.

Dave kept his head down until Karkat gave the fuck up and left.

He ate the rest of his cake slowly, until it wasn’t warm enough to really be appetizing anymore, just burning time and waiting for the relief to settle in.

So the entire fucking thing was a shitshow and Dave was going to see his sister’s desperate, shocked face inside his eyelids for a long damn while. But it was over, and he got the thing he needed to make sure that never happened to the _real_ Rose. He-- he wasn’t going to get tangled up in protecting a fake sister again, he knew it. It was scar tissue that he longed to pick at, to make himself bleed again, but it was going to heal.

So, it was over.

It didn’t feel over. He was aching for something else, some conclusion, he could feel it in his fucking fingernails as he pressed too-hard into his palms. He wanted to break it. Break something.

Someone, maybe.

**== >**

As far as bad decisions went, banging his fist on Karkat’s suite door was in the top five-- no, top _three_.

Karkat was faintly frowning as he opened the door, dark eyebrows knit down in confusion. He looked tired, or hadn’t stopped looking tired since the moment Dave met him.

Dave fully expected for the door to open and for him to take one swing at his face and be done with it. If Karkat wanted to be _kind_ to him, he’d _kindly_ accept one fucking fist-to-mouth connection with grace and dignity.

He didn’t mean to grab Karkat by the front of his sweater and shove him into the wall, and he sure as fuck didn’t mean to mash their mouths together as the heavy door obligingly swung itself shut.

Okay, he needed to do some damage control. This… was not what he planned.

But this was a troll thing, right? They did this all the time, it was _normal_ to mack on someone you hated. It was actually great, it balanced their quadrant things, like siphoning off the humours. Dave could take all his fucking anger and pain and frustration, and pitch it all right into Karkat’s gut just as easily as a punch.

So, yeah, Dave dug a hand into Karkat’s thick, wiry hair and pushed his mouth open insistently while Karkat made muffled shocked noises and awkwardly set his hands on Dave’s shoulders. His fingers curled, claws dragging at the collar of Dave’s shirt, and he opened up, biting Dave’s lower lip before shoving his tongue into Dave’s mouth.

Well, damn, full speed ahead, Dave _had this_.

Teeth were definitely a thing when you were engaging in some oral cartography. They weren’t the scary shark’s teeth that Dave had sometimes seen on trolls, but getting pushy with his tongue was still a dicey prospect. Worth it for the way Karkat was humming as Dave mapped out his mouth.

He jerked away hard, though, his grey skin darkening as he gasped, looking at Dave. “Th--this is not what I expected, uh.”

Holy shit, he did not want to _talk_ about this. “Throw me out or get back to it, but I’m not having a discussion here.”

“Fuck, fine, like I can’t make a few educated fucking guesses given the--” Dave bit him. Or, tried to, tried to duck his against Karkat’s neck and leave a mark, the kind of black posturing he was sure he’d seen before. Troll skin was _tough_ , though. Like, just leaving a hickey would take some concentrated effort and maybe a vacuum.

It shut Karkat the hell up, though. Everything whirled as Karkat knocked his foot into Dave’s ankle, taking him off balance enough to turn him, slamming his back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. Karkat’s teeth grazed his jaw, down his neck, and Dave froze, gasping in shock. Some fucking base instinct held him still, barely breathing as sharp teeth trailed gently down, then back up to his ear.

Karkat looked at him, _smug_ , holy shit. “Do you have any clue what you’re doing, Strider?”

No, but he had a lot of academic knowledge from porn and an intrepid heart. He pushed Karkat off him, and… he backed up, weirdly. Into the suite proper, eyes steady on Dave. Didn’t make another move until Dave did, following him and grabbing hold again, pretty much crashing into him.

Karkat’s hands went to Dave’s hips, and the touch jolted through Dave. Whatever affronted look he wanted to give Karkat would’ve demanded he stop macking on him first, and Dave’s desire to have his mouth on Karkat’s was trumping everything else. Uncomfortable realization: Karkat was good at kissing. Like he was practiced. Which really pissed Dave off for some reason.

The points of Karkat’s thumbclaws snuck under Dave’s shirt to drag against his sides, enough pressure to feel like a threat, like he _could_ break skin but was choosing not to. Dave tried to bite him again, and got a low hum in response, like someone breathing through a fan, that modulated buzzy oddity to the sound. He hoped Karkat would do his teeth thing again, but instead, his arms slid up, wrapping around Dave’s back and dragging him close.

Whoa. He was hot. In the literal sense, more so than a human, even. Trolls were supposed to have cooler body temperatures, Dave thought, but being pressed flush against Karkat had warmth suffusing into him. Through their clothes, too. Dave suddenly really wanted to get the clothes out of the way and see how _that_ felt.

He took a step forward, and Karkat matched him so he didn’t lose his balance. Karkat’s eyes snapped to Dave’s. This close, he’d be able to see through Dave’s glasses.

Fine. Dave slid them off and tossed them on the nearest chair, meeting Karkat’s eyes in a challenge.

That buzzy noise deepened, and Dave could almost fucking _feel_ the vibration sink lower into Karkat’s chest. He was the one to walk back then, and Dave went with him.

When Karkat tried to nudge Dave towards the bed, Dave smacked his hands away, hard enough that Karkat rocked back, eyes going wide and cautious. Which, surprise, _also_ pissed Dave off, because he wasn’t looking for patience or concern here. The way Karkat’s touch lightened instantly made something under Dave’s skin itch.

He grabbed the hem of Karkat’s sweater and yanked it upward. Struggling to get him out of it at least made it harder for Karkat to go all alien puppy eyes on him. What was Dave supposed to do here? Did he have to formally invite Karkat to this hate fuck party? Did trolls have some kind of cue for this? Maybe he should’ve bought a deck of cards from the hotel’s convenience shop and slid the ace of spades under the door. Maybe shown up with black roses and a card saying _I’m thorny_. Something to make his intentions clear.

Under the sweater wasn’t anything Dave hadn’t seen before, but it was different in person. Seeing a living, breathing, half-naked troll was miles away from seeing one on a monitor. Dave stilled, looking him over. Nothing could really prepare him for how much of that tough grey skin they actually had, wow, damn. Obviously they had it all over, but it was just… so much, and made Dave’s fingers twitch to touch. Karkat’s skin had little marks, faded red scars and much broader stripes along his sides, under the arms, each one the same dull grey-red color. No belly button or nips. Dave didn’t know why he was surprised to see that, he _knew_ better.

He was still gawking when Karkat hooked a finger in Dave’s shirt. “Off, or I’ll slice it off.”

_Whoa, hot._ But Dave liked this shirt, and hurried to get rid of it. There was always a split second of hesitance to showing skin and showing off all his scars, long faded but still so numerous most people balked a little.

If Karkat did, Dave would’ve done something rash and mean.

But Karkat hummed more, his throat buzzing on every inhale and exhale, and cupped Dave’s back, leaned in to kiss him.

Skin on skin was even warmer, goddamn. It felt awesome. Pinpricks dragging up and down his back, the heat of Karkat’s palm, and the even more intense heat of his mouth, it was _good_.

It was a distraction, though. The touch was so fucking gentle, Dave felt some of the irritation slip out of his grip, entirely involuntary. And realizing that pissed him off again. What was Karkat’s _deal_?

Shoving him down against the bed felt better, and the startled look on his face as Dave grabbed his belt was fucking gratifying. Dave flashed his teeth down at him. “Problem?”

The humming turned to a _growl_ that went right to Dave’s dick, wow. Karkat shoved his own pants off.

_Red_ , Dave thought, and felt himself going red himself as he got a load of Karkat. He was _vividly_ red, that shit was the Crayola ten-pack standard red. He’d never seen that color before, a vibrant hue against all that grey skin, enough that for a moment it gave Dave a visceral recollection of the fresh spill of scarlet blood--

He shook it away, and kicked off his own clothes. Then it was too chilly in the room for standing there bare-assed, and Dave climbed on for this rodeo.

Karkat’s hands felt like a brand on his hips; Dave shut his eyes, letting out a tense noise as he got used to the heat. He had to since Karkat was still touching him, practically petting him as he straddled Karkat’s hips. Still too soft. He braced against Karkat’s shoulders and ground down against him greedily, the first touch of hot slickness making his eyes shut against his will. Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Karkat said aloud, and Dave couldn’t help laughing a little at that. It was encouragement enough for Dave to keep doing that, working himself up as much as Karkat. The red slit beneath him opened further, got wetter, until there was barely any friction at all and Dave could rock easily against Karkat.

Given how mouthy he usually was, Karkat was weirdly quiet. Or, no, he wasn’t, he was _noisy as fuck_ as Dave worked them up and coaxed that tentacle dick out of hiding, but it was all just that: noise. Hums and weird purrs, not words. Karkat didn’t say much, just held onto Dave with eager hands and kept up the happy cicada racket.

A new challenger entered the arena as the tentacle unfurled itself and slid out of Karkat. Dave nearly jumped as its hot, wet touch rubbed against the weird sensitive skin behind his balls. He looked down and watched the bulge wrap in a loose coil around his dick, and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Karkat’s hands were firm on him, and he tipped sideways, rolling them both onto their sides. “Hang on, n-need, shit….” His voice sounded _incredible_ ; the buzzy noise didn’t stop and he just spoke through it, the modulation transferring to his vowel sounds. If Dave was more coherent, he’d be fucking intrigued.

But Karkat was busy fucking with his bedside drawer. Dave wondered what the hell was so important and ignored whatever Karkat was focused on, electing instead to grab his ass with both hands and use it as leverage to really grind together. The slick heat around his dick was intense, and Dave shut his eyes, pressing his face against Karkat’s neck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Karkat said emphatically, the _f_ sound vibrating around him. His arm curled under Dave, tugging him closer and lifting him to rest against Karkat’s chest.

Dave lifted his head to figure out what the hell was going on; Karkat was laying something down on the bed, something padded and cushy. As soon as it was down, he put Dave down on it. “There, holy fuck, okay, fine.”

It was soft and weird under Dave, but he stopped paying attention to it pretty quickly as Karkat joined him in the sweet, filthy grind they had going on. He hitched Dave’s leg up, around his thigh, and with more room to move, his bulge wrapped more securely around Dave’s cock. Eyes squeezing shut, Dave huffed out a strained, “Uh, _fuck_ ,” head falling back.

Karkat pressed his face against the long column of Dave’s neck, kissing the tense tendon there with agonizing sweetness. Dave scratched down his back, hissing. He didn’t feel like he had control over this anymore, shit, what _happened?_

But it felt brainmeltingly good, like a fucking tactical assault on the senses, the purring noises in his ears and against his skin, and the slick slide of Karkat’s bulge dripping white fucking hot over him and squeezing. Dave’s hips rocked against Karkat’s on their own, trying to push his face into Karkat’s hair to muffle the involuntary sounds wrenching free of his chest.

Against his skin, Karkat was sighing out soft placating noises, shushing him, his grip on Dave’s leg changing to a long stroke up his back.

Yeah, this was not as spades-y as Dave planned but it felt solidly out of his hands as he pulled at Karkat’s shoulder, tilting him until he was almost on top as Dave rolled onto his back. He started to dig in his nails again, only for Karkat to move, grabbing his wrists and pinning them against the bed.

The sound Dave let out at that would’ve been fucking mortifying if it wasn’t nearly drowned out by the wet noises between them. He gave a cursory shot at shaking his wrists free only for Karkat to lean down and kiss him again, like he was being bribed to obedience.

Okay. Okay. Dave felt out of goddamn control to a significant degree, but couldn’t stop. Karkat was _good_ at kissing, pushing Dave’s head back against the bed as he licked his way into his mouth. It was too much, between that and his bulge rubbing more fervently and determinedly against Dave, making his toes curl. He gasped against Karkat’s lips, shuddering as the sharp peak of the weird alien euphoria cut right into him. Dave twisted his mouth away, gasping as it all uncoiled hot and sweet from him, coming up between their stomachs. All the tension in him snapped like a rope, dropping a goddamn piano into the concrete below, cacophony and impact.

Karkat let his hands go, and Dave didn’t even try to move. His whole body felt like a tuning fork, humming down to his bones. It was a lot of fucking effort just to turn his head, look up at Karkat as he balanced on one hand and reached down with the other to grip his awesome wiggly tentadick. He kept his eyes on Dave for a second before glancing away, like he was fucking nervous.

Dave didn’t have the brainpower to fathom why. Instead, he cupped Karkat’s head and lifted his knee, right between Karkat’s legs, and applied pressure until Karkat cursed and started grinding off against him.

Red ran thickly down Dave’s leg, making him shiver. There was a lot and Dave remembered _huh, right, pailing_. Did Karkat need a… like, maybe he should’ve leaned over to drag the trash bin over--

With a sharp hitched noise, Karkat came, a translucent red torrent that was blood hot and weird. It dripped down and… onto that pad Karkat had dragged onto the bed before. The stream of alien jizz that would’ve otherwise ruined a really nice hotel bed absorbed into the cloth thing, and that was it.

“Huh,” Dave said articulately. “Neat.”

“Fuck,” Karkat said, and slumped. He had the decency not to fall directly onto Dave, just half on him, half on the bed. He was still really dense and kind of heavy.

Dave rolled his head around, eyes half lidded. He should…

Karkat was breathing heavy and slow, still with the subvocal noises, but now deeper and broader, like a housecat crossed with a sportscar. Dave wanted to listen a little longer, to get _something_ out of this complete fuck-up of an ordeal.

Besides the sweet orgasm, anyway.

* * *

 

**> Past-Karkat: Wake up.**

When Karkat woke up next, he had a moment to deal with the weird disorientation that came with being in an unfamiliar bed, having gone to sleep when it was still day out, and waking up in darkness. Compounded by the fact he felt _really good_ in a sated peaceful way he hadn’t in a long while. Like, a year at least. 

Karkat sat up slowly, rubbing his face, and looked beside him.

Dave was still asleep. It was a feat that he was there; post-coital Dave Strider acted like he’d been drugged, sleepy and obstinate once he was settled. It’d be hard to coax him up to get rid of the absorbent pail and even worse to get him under the fucking covers. But once he was there, he was… still. Which was a relief, honestly.

Karkat was aware of the shit Dave tried to pull at him. He wasn’t an idiot and knew a caliginous pass (or seven) when it was trying to sink its blunt useless teeth in him.

But…

There was no bile to be had. All the anger just slid over Karkat without catching. He couldn’t work up any fucking hate for Dave knowing what had happened, knowing _why_ Dave was so pissed off. Maybe it would’ve been kinder to indulge him, but the idea of doing anything to hurt Dave more, even consensually, frankly made Karkat want to vomit.

And for his trouble, he had the human sleeping in his bed.

He’d never imagined-- okay, the contents of Karkat’s imagination were irrelevant, but he never _thought realistically outside of uncomfortably vivid fantasies_ that he’d get to see Dave really and honestly sleeping. It changed his face entirely, the slack soft look of him. He looked vulnerable in a way that tugged at Karkat’s chest. He wasn’t sure how he stumbled into this kind of trust.

Fuck, he liked it a lot. Maybe… when they woke up, maybe they could actually have a conversation about it? If Dave wanted and could resist the urge to be an asshole for a few minutes.

Or maybe Karkat really needed to get a fucking hold of himself. Dave had come to him mean like something feral and scared, and Karkat had soothed him into something else. That didn’t mean Dave felt any different.

Except he was still asleep, and Karkat deeply, guiltily knew how Dave didn’t _like_ being at anyone’s mercy. So maybe that meant something?

_Or_ Karkat was just getting attached to a human he was forced by circumstances to learn too much about. Who didn’t get infatuated with what they couldn’t have, that they stole a delicate piece of? That was just covetous bullshit.

Or--

Dave’s face pinched in his sleep, suddenly desperately unhappy. Karkat stilled and shut up his fucking circuitous thinkpan to watch him.

Right, because he hadn’t infringed enough-- _shut up_.

It was almost disturbing to watch. A peaceful dreamer suddenly descending into something terrible. Dave’s breathing came faster, his eyes flicking more rapidly under his eyelids, fingers clenching in the sheets. There was distress in the pull of his eyebrows, in the way his lips parted around a long soundless cry.

Seconds here. Much longer in a dream.

Karkat reached out, already wincing at trespassing again like this, and shook Dave, calling his name firmly.

He jerked awake so suddenly, so thoroughly, his head almost lifted enough to whack Karkat in the chin. He leaned back just in time. “Dave? Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

His eyes were open, but wakefulness was slow to cross his features. His eyes flicked around wildly, confused, before settling on Karkat’s hand on his arm.

He sighed, shaking. “Fuck,” he said, quietly, choked.

Karkat could guess what that was about, especially when Dave turned his head into the pillow. The responsibility of having added another trauma to Dave’s subconscious burned Karkat, made old self-hatred he thought he’d grown out of as a kid slither poisonous in his gut.

Pushing past that was hard, but Karkat managed, sliding close to curl around Dave’s back, dragging his claws lightly over his clavicle. He’d noticed Dave seemed to like that, the graze of them against his skin. “I’m sorry,” Karkat murmured, petting him carefully.

Dave’s breath shook as he let it out slowly. “Don’t.”

“But I am. Dave, it’s…”

The kiss Dave pressed against his mouth was clearly meant to shut him up. If Karkat was a better person, he’d ignore it and keep going.

But Karkat was not a better person and leaned in, bracing himself with an elbow by Dave’s head to return and deepen the kiss, trying to ignore his terror at how much he wanted this human. It was just the extraction, he knew it, it’d go away in time, but _goddammit_ he ached to just keep him here a little longer, safe and quiet in the dark.

It didn’t help that Dave rolled onto his back under Karkat, sprawling outward like an invitation. Sighed into Karkat’s mouth. Rested a hand against Karkat’s shoulder.

Karkat didn’t fucking lie to himself and pretend he wasn’t going to do this.

Sliding over Dave was easy, mouths not even separating. The way Dave’s knees bent up around Karkat’s sides as he settled was gratifying, as was the little hitch in his breathing as Karkat touched him, thumbs pressing against the soft dark circles on his chest.

“Okay?” Karkat said quietly, and felt Dave nod against his face.

There wasn’t the contentiousness this time, just the dark of the room, Dave’s face lit by the moving lights of the city outside, and soft noises. Dave let out a tense, almost pained sound every time Karkat touched him, and Karkat fucking wallowed in it, the sharp set of pleasure on his face, like he was feeling it for the first time every time.

When Dave’s nails dug into Karkat’s shoulders this time, it wasn’t to hurt him.

He wasn’t sure how this was going to go until his bulge lazily rubbed against Dave, managing to squirm obscenely against his ass, and the way Dave’s eyes popped wide, looking up at Karkat.

Yes, yes, yes, abso-fucking-lutely.

Karkat laid out another pad under Dave’s hips and leaned back onto his knees to position himself. They didn’t talk about it, but Dave shifted with him, legs spread wider to accommodate, and bit his lip as Karkat worked slowly into him.

Then grabbed Karkat by his shoulders and pulled him back down.

The angle was a little awkward, with Dave bent up into Karkat’s body and Karkat trying not to crush Dave under him, but it was still the best fucking agony Karkat knew, the clenching tightness around his bulge, the way Dave panted in his ear, desperate little sounds. He could get addicted to this, to giving Dave this all the time. He deserved to be like this, coming apart and whining and so fucking good.

After he came, he used the slickness of his own slurry to jerk Dave off, watching his face the entire time, and thought, yeah, in the morning, maybe they could talk about this.

He’d like that.

* * *

 

**> Past Dave: Abscond.**

Dave slipped out from under Karkat’s arm as carefully as he could, feet silent on the floor as he extricated himself from the bed. 

Karkat slept on, thank fucking god, his face mashed against the pillow, mouth open, so heavy and still he could’ve seemed dead to the untrained eye.

Putting on his clothes again was uncomfortable; his skin was lightly sticky all over, sweat and faint red stains making him tacky. He didn’t bother with his shoes, just hooked his fingers into them and carried them out the door. Or, most of the way out the door, before Dave spotted his glasses sitting on the chair in the living area and cursed to himself, hurrying back inside to get them.

The elevator was empty as he returned to his floor. Small fucking mercies.

He took the fastest shower of his life, mind whirling. He was maybe panicking. Or, definitely. Definitely having a bit of a freak out.

His little stunt didn’t go as planned, to put it lightly. He’d wanted to stroll into Karkat’s space and pay him back, to fuck up that smug prick to get some equilibrium back. Really, Dave didn’t mind people acting against him, so long as he eventually evened the score.

Nothing felt even or steady. His body was humming happily at him, thrilled at having two really awesome orgasms, and the dissonance was making him feel worse.

He should’ve just left it alone. Retreated back to Rose with his tail between his fucking legs and taken the certification he didn’t deserve with an ounce of fucking dignity, like Dirk would’ve done, like _any_ of his family would’ve done because they weren’t like _him_ , were not a walking vindication of why humans named natural disasters after people, _god_.

Rose. God, he needed to get to her. He didn’t even know if she was still in the city. And he could’ve spent the time finding out, but he was too busy shoving his shit into his bag.

What was he going to tell her? _Hey, sis, sorry I was gone so long, I was busy fixing my fucked up subconscious and killing my dream mirage of you and then fucking Karkat Vantas and maybe crying on him a bit, and I don’t know which of those things is the worst thing._

It was really shitty. To just leave like this.

But if he didn’t, if he had to deal with another second of Karkat looking at him with his tired, kind eyes, Dave was going to…

He didn’t know, and wasn’t going to find out.

Instead, he checked out of his hotel room at fucking 4:45 in the morning and did what everyone person did when they were lost in an unfamiliar city without a clear solution laid out in front of them:

He found a Starbucks, got a drink with too many espresso shots, and used the wifi to figure it out.

At least that was the last he’d see of Karkat fucking Vantas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, ha haaaaaaa.


	15. epilogue five: afterlife (oh my god, what an awful word)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the lateness of this. i have genuinely been _swamped_ at work.

**> Karkat: Decelerate.  **

Roxy Lalonde spent her ill-gotten industry gains on a ranch hive that sat in the middle of the country, a good ninety miles away from any proper city. The drive from the airport took almost two hours, Karkat’s hands gripped too tight on the rotational steering device after Dave mentioned they should watch out for deer jumping in the road.

At least on Alternia, when the wildlife was a danger to you, it wasn’t out of the kind of dim-minded stupidity. Karkat would’ve been happier with a talon beast attacking his rental car than a delicate little antlerbeast being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Why the fuck doesn’t your hatchmate live a reasonable fucking distance from civilization?” Karkat groused fifty minutes into the trip.

Dave was curled up in the passenger seat, his spine curved from his deep slouch, his feet up on the dashboard, fingers trailing out the window, moving in the slipstream. Countryside zipped by in the reflection of his glasses, the fastforward rerun of the world around them.

Karkat forced himself to stop staring at him, squashing the quiet warmth in his thorax at the sight of him like this.

“For Calliope, I think. And Rox is, like, probably the only one of us that’s capable of living in a place that doesn’t have delivery. Fuck her and her blasphemous Digiorno. Also, it’s… an old bee farm? The fuck is the word for that?”

“Apiary,” Karkat supplied.

Dave tipped his head, almost resting against Karkat’s arm as he smirked up at him. “You poser.”

“What?”

“ _Apiary_ , says Mr. Troll Vocabulary.”

Rolling his eyes, Karkat smacked Dave’s arm. “Are you bilingual, asshole? Are you fluent in a language your mouth wasn’t designed to speak? Shut the fuck up.”

“Your Alternian accent is kind of one of the hottest things about you,” Dave said, turning his head to look out the window again, like he hadn’t just made Karkat’s brain stutter.

He punched the radio and listened to the awful twangy country that poured out of the speakers until Dave forcefully commandeered the console and plugged in his phone. Something quieter and heavy on the brass filled the car for the rest of the trip, occasionally interrupted with the GPS’s directions.

By the time it announced their destination was on the right, Dave had sat up and started drumming his fingers on his knees. It was synched to the music, because Dave was always synched to the music like it was attached to his own heartbeat, but anxious. Karkat wanted to reach out to take his hand, but the road transitioned from asphalt to gravel very abruptly and he steered the car with both hands as the car dipped and jumped. The suspension fucking sucked.

“You know,” Dave said, a thread of apprehension in his voice, “you don’t have to…” He stopped, let out an annoyed _tch_ sound. “Look, this is probably the last chance to get off the Strider-Lalonde reunion train before the inevitable wreck. There’s got to be a hotel within twenty miles of here. And that way, if it all goes to shit and I gotta abscond, you’re my getaway driver.”

“Dave.”

“Put on your satin jacket with the scorpion embroidery and be the Ryan Gosling to my Daisy Buchanan. Wait, _Gatsby_ has a terrible car crash thing in it, bad mixed metaphor. What the fuck else was that actress in? All I can think of is _Pride and Prejudice_ , which-- oh man, that definitely makes you Darcy, think about it. I’m your Lizzie Bennet. I think that makes Rose my Jane, and-- haha, Kanaya is Bingley, all suave and hot and respectable while I get saddled with _your_ surly ass. Oh fuck, that makes Dirk the Lydia, holy shit. I should write this down. Make a chart.”

“Dave!” Karkat leaned over, flicked his claws against Dave’s head. “As fucking fascinating as it is that you apparently remember so many minute details about one of the greatest human romances I’ve ever seen--” Dave snorted loudly, “--we’re here.”

Parking the car a few feet from the porch, they both stilled, looking at the Lalonde Ranch. It was late in the day, and the hive blocked the direct view of the sun, leaving just the drip-dye cascade of sunset haloing upward. Dave leaned forward, looking through the window.

Karkat watched Dave watching his sister’s home. “Eventually they’ll notice we’re here.”

“I know,” Dave said quietly. “I just need a sec.”

That was doable. Karkat nodded, and turned off the car, listening to the engine ping as it settled. “You have until it gets too hot in this goddamn car.”

Dave smiled, and even as he kept his eyes averted, gazing off into the distance, Karkat felt his small finger reach out to curl around one of Karkat’s claws. If it came to it, he’d turn the car back on and take Dave back home, to hell with his human _reunion_ if he wasn’t ready for it.

But for now, he could just wait.

* * *

 

**> Dave: Survive family.**

For all his bluster about not letting Dave take up too much time out in the car, Karkat didn’t do anything to hurry him along into the house. That was sort of what Karkat _did_ , though, the kindest little daily lies that soothed Dave. All bark, no bite outside the bedroom, just how Dave liked it.

When he was finally ready to make their way to the house, the porch light had turned itself on in the increasingly dim light. The cicadas were just starting to make their racket; it was too early for them to reach their seasonal critical mass that made every evening sound like a minor apocalypse was going on, but they were solid background noise.

A few fireflies were showing their neon luminescent asses, blinking slow and drowsy as Dave and Karkat grabbed their bags and headed up to the porch. As they crunched their way over the gravel, Karkat blew a few gently out of their path.

To his complete lack of surprise, the door opened before they’d finished with the stairs. Dave _knew_ Roxy had to be spying on them from the window. His family had no sense of boundaries, jesus.

She bounded out over the patio, bare feet slapping against the dark wood as she hurried over, hips moving with the bounce in her stride. Dave hesitated on the step, unsure how to escape the blast radius he was standing in. Before he could do something appropriate like backflip back to the road or strife out of her grip, Roxy was on him. She had the height advantage with him only halfway up the stairs and used it to drag him in. One arm circled his shoulders, the other cupping the back of his head, and suddenly he was mashed into Roxy’s glorious rack. “About time! Come to momma, Davey. Oh, I’ve missed your handsome face, lookit you!”

Everything he tried to say turned into a muffled sound against the soft flannel of her shirt. Someone took his bag out of his hand-- Karkat, pulling it free from his grip-- and Dave relented, put his arms around her waist. “Mmfph.”

He heard the loud smacking noise of Roxy kissing the top of his head. “And you!” She let go, turning her attention to Karkat with a wicked grin. “Hello, boss. Nice to see you again.”

Karkat got a harried look in his eyes, both his arms busy with their bags. “Likewise, Roxy. I’ll opt out of the familial suffocation ritual if it’s all the same to you. It’s been a long fucking day already.”

“You’re no fun. Here, come in, let’s get you boys set up in a room. Ain’t much soundproofing in these old ranch houses, so keep the hankypanky to a minimum, okay?”

“What the fuck is hankypanky.” Karkat trudged along up the stairs after her, ignoring Dave’s attempts to take his bag back.

Roxy’s place was a big, open, airy single-level sprawl of artfully weathered wood and wide brick floors. From the entryway, almost all of it was visible; the sunken living room to the right with its fireplace crackling merrily away, the dining area with the huge table overtaken by huge mason jars of honeycomb, and the kitchen where Calliope was peering at them from around the fridge. Dave waved; she smiled and waved back before ducking out of sight.

Roxy led them down the hallway. Dave vaguely remembered the layout from the only other time he’d been here since Roxy had bought it; there were two guest rooms and one master suite. The suite was Roxy and Calliope’s. Roxy nudged open the door to one of the guest rooms. Dirk was probably staying in the other and would crash on the sofa when Rose got here if Dave knew him at all.

Speaking of: “Rose missed a transfer on her flight or she woulda beat you here. She’ll be in super late and told us not to wait up. Because she thinks we’re octogenarians who go to bed before eleven or some shit like that,” Roxy said. “Shower’s opposite door if you wanna wash the airport feeling off you.”

Karkat looked up with interest at that, and Dave laughed. “I’ll let you have it first, dude. You are the grumpiest person to ever fly first class.”

“My job is basically a pilgrimage to all the airports of the world,” Karkat said. “And it sucks serious bulge.”

“Save me some hot water,” Dave told him, nudging his side with an elbow, and followed Roxy back out, down the hallway.

Immediately, she hooked her arm in his, beaming at him.

“What?” Dave asked.

“Can’t believe you brought a _boy home_ , Davey. I’m so proud of you. It’s so new and exciting!”

“Wow, this is incredible. Call the Guinness committee, we have a new world record for the land speed of regret. It’s already here. It was so quick.”

“Also, hell, that’s three out of four of our family shacking up with aliens. Though I dunno if Rose is at that point with Kanaya yet?” She offered Dave a questioning look. It quickly faded into something else as she watched his face. “Not that… no, you don’t have any gossip, you wouldn’t…” Clearing her throat, she pushed some cheer back into her voice. “Well, when she gets here, we can grill her for the juicy deets.”

“Yeah,” Dave agreed.

The shiver of uncomfortableness lingered for a moment as Roxy parked Dave in the living room. She squeezed his arm once warmly with a soft smile before excusing herself to check on something in the kitchen.

Released, Dave stood there, completely fucking unsure what he was supposed to do. It was something he hadn’t felt around his family since he was a kid and first started living with Dirk. He wasn’t _supposed_ to feel like this anymore.

For one brief but clear moment, Dave worried he’d been wrong. That by going to Karkat, he’d broken _this_. That somehow he’d fucking forgotten how to be part of his own family and had fucked everything up. That his decision to get some distance was stupid and he was paying for it, he’d pay for it forever with an ache in his chest remembering all he’d had, and knowing he’d thrown it away over nothing.

He was entertaining the thought of dragging Karkat out of his shower and running the fuck away back to the Pacific Northwest when the sliding glass door to the back patio rattled open, and Dirk peered through the gap at Dave for a silent second before beckoning him with the slightest tilt of his head.

Right. He could do this. Dirk was in a way easier than his sisters. They both knew how to keep shit on lockdown, in the vault of cool stares and dark shades. Even if Dirk was going without today. Shades were sometimes a state of mind.

Outside, the firefly density was reaching a level normally reserved for a Disney Channel movie, as picturesque as could be. Dirk was sitting on the wide wooden railing, his back against the house, one leg dangling down, the other bent in front of him, looking like a particularly cool dude.

It was reassuring. Dave shut the door behind him and helped himself to the railing cattycorner to Dirk’s, boosting himself up onto it. “Hey.”

“Sup.”

“It’s fucking lousy with bugs out here.”

“Yeah. Roxy likes this great outdoors shit. She’s got the fire pit going most nights, out there by the hives.” Dirk nodded out to the field behind the house. There was a huge space between where they were sitting and the distant treeline; dotted across the field were fruit trees and a few tall wooden structures, the apiaries. Between the apiaries and the patio was a circle of blackened earth with large flattish stones circling it.

“Long way from Houston,” Dave said, imagining just how shithive this place was driving Dirk.

“Not as far as Washington state,” Dirk replied.

They were already getting into it, then. Normally, Dirk was direct as a hammer to nail or he verbally danced his way around the issue for as long as humanly possible. Going for the former this time.

Dave nodded. “Came in through O’Hare. It’s just as much as a convoluted mess as ever.”

“I get that. If O’Hare stood between me and the correct half of the country, I’d spend half a year hiding out in the frigid north too. Seems reasonable enough.”

 _Hiding_ stung. “Didn’t really fly down here for an interrogation, dude.”

There was a pause, probably imperceptible to anyone outside their family. “You left and didn’t tell us where you were. Didn’t say shit to anyone for over a month. Rox worried. Rose was fuckin’ _beside_ herself in that weird twisted insincere way of hers.”

Dirk didn’t need a sword to stab Dave in the heart, fuck. He lowered his gaze to the floor between them. “How long before Roxy hacked my GPS?”

“Three days. That’s not the point. You knew she would.”

“I did. That _is_ the point.” Dave sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I needed to be somewhere else for a while. Which, what a fuckin’ coincidence, you did too.”

“Yeah,” Dirk said dryly. “I…” He trailed off, leaning his head back against the siding. “This isn’t the conversation I meant to have, christ. Can I get a do-over? Can we do that, one brain fucked bro to another?”

“I don’t know, _can_ we?” Dave fired back, all nasal third grade teacher at him.

Dirk nodded, acknowledging the olive branch for what it was. “Took you half a year to unstick yourself from his side and come visit your damn family. Just how good is that Alternian dick?”

“It’s fuckin’ amazing. Like a cherry Ferrari going 90 down an empty freeway. Don’t be a dick just ‘cause you couldn’t get your xenophiliac card punched like the rest of us. You’re basically the disappointment of the family right now. We’re thinking of enrolling you in remedial alien fucking courses to catch you up with the rest of your grade level. First Contact 101.”

There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, and he lifted his hand to his face. A cig sat between two fingers; the end was badly chewed, the other side unlit. “Rox hasn’t. You know that.”

“Her being sappily married and sharing a house with an alien is _worse_ than actually getting her freak on. Once you’re filing taxes together, it’s a whole new tier of xeno love.” Dave shrugged. “It’s nice. Cold as fuck, but quieter. His house is awesome, and he’s… helping.”

“You’re doing the digital housekeeping, I noticed. I like the new site design. Better modularity, it can scale without breaking all those fucking tables.”

“Troll CSS is disgusting, you would not _believe_ , man.”

“Got chatter about you being seen with him for the certs.” There was an undercurrent there, something chillier than even his usual cool tone.

“No more dreaming,” Dave said. “I don’t do that anymore. Just watch out for him on the outside.”

Dirk nodded. “Yeah. About that. The certifications.” He tapped his cigarette like he was ashing it. His head turned just slightly to look at it in his hand, and he sighed, putting it behind his ear instead. “Rose got us up to speed on some pretty major shit we missed. With your certification.”

Oh fresh fucking hell. This was probably the last thing he wanted to talk about and Dirk was the last person he wanted to talk about it to. He’d known that when he told Rose the details of what happened during his test, it would get to Roxy and Dirk. It had to. But deep down he’d hoped they’d… forget it or something while he was gone.

Yeah, right.

“Three rounds, huh,” Dirk said, almost musing.

“Dude, don’t.” Sighing, Dave shoved his glasses up into his hair, holding the bridge of his nose. It was getting too dark to see anyway. Straining against the shades to see was making his head hurt.

“You didn’t…” Again, Dave watched his brother _stop_ , and it was even more weird the second time. Dirk had always been so certain of his words, of everything he did. After the job, he seemed different.

It was there and then Dave realized with a sharp pang he hadn’t asked Dirk how he was doing yet. God, he was such a shitty little brother.

Dirk reconsidered his words and went on: “If you told us, we would’ve helped you. _Especially_ Rose. I’m not going to tell you any useless platitudes about how she _didn’t mean_ to pressure you into shit, because we _all_ know she didn’t, just like we know that doesn’t really make it any easier."

“It wasn’t her fault,” Dave said.

“It was. Parts of it were. And parts of it weren’t. I’m not trying to do a post-mortem or assign blame. Only saying that I hope you know we didn’t want that for you. If there is any part of your big abscond to the arctic coming from guilt or thinking like you _failed_ us--”

Dave looked him right in the eyes. “Do you feel guilty about the thing with AR?” Dirk was silent. “Yeah.”

“Fair point. But pushing yourself through that fuckin’ horseshit certification, jesus, Dave.” His lip started to curl, sour as apple candy. “Vantas thought he fixed you up and turned you loose on the world. The fuck is his goddamn roster for it not to prevent the _exact_ shit that happened to you?”

“If Rose told you about that,” Dave replied, “then she also told you the part where I basically bullied Karkat into the whole mess. He did the absolute best job he could given the circumstances, and if you hold it over his head, we’re going to have a _real_ problem, Dirk.” He took a deep breath. “And if the roster _didn’t_ exist, I would’ve just followed Rose into dreamsharing anyway without any help and probably gotten myself mentally fucked with a corkscrew. Just because you dodged the whole system doesn’t mean that’s for the best, man.”

Dave could count the number of times he’d really talked back to Dirk on one hand with enough fingers left for vital rude gestures. The rush of words felt like flood water rising in his chest, up his throat, choking him until he poured them out. As soon as he quieted after, his face burned, his heart raced with the fear he’d gone too far and what it’d cost him.

So, gripping the railing under him with white knuckles, Dave asked, “How are you doing after everything?”

That wasn’t what Dirk was expecting; he let out a surprised puff of air, eyebrows furrowing. “How am I doing?”

“Yeah,” Dave said, voice a little stronger this time. “I’m not the only one who got fucked up by the job.”

It was dangerously close to asking about Dirk’s _feelings_. They were at DEFCON 3, the potential for disaster present if not yet upon them.

Dirk started chewing the end of his cigarette again. Where he’d gotten that habit, Dave had no idea. “Rox had my fool ass on house arrest for a while, but that was technically over months ago. Stuck around so Calliope wouldn’t be lonely when Rox went out for a job. Then it just felt right to stay for the New Years.” He ran a hand through his hair, careful to move with it’s purposeful windswept shape. “Being out here isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me. Although, the worst thing that’s happened to me was pretty fuckin’ extreme, so the bell curve’s been thrown off.” One shoulder moved in a jerky shrug. “I’m probably busting out of the Lalonde Halfway House soon.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” At least Dave had figured out something to do for the time being. He doubted he’d play armed secretary and website admin forever, but given how Dirk was still _here_ , not back in Houston, Dave thought he maybe had a decent lead in this shitty race to rebuilding their respective lives.

At the question, though, Dirk’s eyes darted away, fingers covering his mouth as he held his chewtoy against his lips uselessly. “Yeah. I had an idea. Or, uh. Jake did.”

“ _Jake_?” Dave couldn’t help being kinda thrown.

“He… was here. He’s been by a few times, actually. It’s like having a conjugal visit, without the conjugal. You just missed him, he was here last week. Anyway, he’s got some godforsaken idea in his head to take a hiking trip across New Zealand. See the volcanoes. Take selfies at all the LotR sets they still have up.” Dirk rubbed the back of his neck. “He offered to take me along.”

A lot of things were warring on the tip of Dave’s tongue, eager to be the first out of his mouth. _But you hate those movies,_ got barely beat out by, “Wait, so are you two…” He waggled his fingers expressively.

Dirk looked honest-to-god pained. “I have no fucking _idea_. There’s a lot of shit I’ve figured out chillin’ here and being an introspective borderline monastic motherfucker, but the secret language of English is still a mystery with an ironic namesake.”

“As much as things change,” Dave offered sympathetically. His brother and Jake had been in _some_ kind of relationship for so long, Dave could scarcely remember when Jake wasn’t acting as some bucktoothed enthusiastic satellite of their family. The way he turned Dirk into kind of an idiot was as regular as the tides.

“Just have to quit smoking first. Jake’s orders. Apparently he thinks I’m inhaling a pack a day and will drop dead on him halfway up Mount Who Gives A Fuck if I don’t.”

“I was wondering why you were making nasty mouth love to that fucking stick.”

“Yeah. I ran out of chewing gum. Oral fixation’s a bitch.”

“So you’re going to do it?”

Dirk sighed. “Probably. It’s Jake. Contain your goddamn shock.”

Dirk would try to steal the fucking stars from the sky for Jake if he asked. When Jake figured that out, it’d be a dark day for humanity.

With that, the contentious bubble between them finally popped, to Dave’s intense relief. Dirk’s shoulders slumped, cool and unaffected instead of tight and ready for impact. It sent the tension in Dave out of his body, down his spine and through his shoes, eagerly forgotten. They sat together in the quiet din of noise of the cicadas. Dave held out a hand, trying to lure in fireflies.

He got a few. It took a couple of tries to not jerk away at the crawly sensation of something tiny and many-legged on his skin, but eventually he worked it out.

The sliding door opened, and Calliope leaned out. “Dinner will be ready in a few moments, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Calliope,” Dirk said, turning to give her one of his rare real human being smiles. It was even pretty convincing. She smiled back, and left again.

“Think I have time for a shower before food?” Dave asked, hopping off the railing and running a swift hand over his head, dislodging any fireflies that might’ve been getting friendly with his hair.

Dirk frowned. “Before dinner? Oh, for you, probably.”

“What the hell do you _do_ in there? Like, do you light some candles, play some Debussy, and work up some elaborate fantasy of Colin Firth on a bed of roses? Is that what it takes to get you going?” Huh, he really had Austen on the brain today.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Dirk slid to his feet, following along Dave’s side. “Time to finally meet Vantas. Didn’t really get the chance at Jade’s place.”

Dave put his hand on the door handle and shot a glare at Dirk. “ _Don’t_ be a dick to him, I will come down on you like a palette of bricks from the top of a ten storey. You will not survive, dude.”

Dirk arched an eyebrow back at him, the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m your brother. I reserve the right to be a douchebag to your boyfriend.”

“That’s not a thing. You’re making shit up, you can’t be ironically doing the douchebag thing without an origin point of real world shit to be ironic _about.”_

“Yeah, fine, won’t rough him up too much. Oh, hang on.” He reached out as Dave started to slide open the door, pushed it shut again.

“What?”

“Rose gave us _all_ the details about your test. And why you threw a tantrum over Vantas leading the job.” He tucked two fingers into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper, handing it over.

Dave took it, unfolded it. It was a hundred dollar bill. He squinted at it, turning it over, looking for a punchline written somewhere. It was bank fresh, had that clean papery feeling to it. “Okay?”

“From Rox and me. You never told us you won the bet.”

The bet-- Dave’s eyes widened. The _bet._ Holy shit. “Oh my god, jesus, _no_.”

“You did. Rox and I broke out the calendar and everything to verify.”

Dave opened his mouth, then shut it with a click. Taking the path of discretion, he jerked the door open and hurried back into the house.

He shoved the bill into his back pocket, listening to Dirk’s smug chuckle behind him.

* * *

 

**> Karkat: Eat, drink, and be vaguely confrontational.**

Dave spent a long time outside with the older Strider. They tucked themselves into the far side of the porch. From the kitchen, Karkat could just see half of Dave’s face and had a hard time tearing his eyes away as the emotions rolled across his face. He couldn’t hear the conversation, just saw glimpses of Dave’s anger, fear, and sadness punctuated with flashes of smiles. He wanted to know what was going on.

Calliope patted his arm reassuringly, which was a weird gesture from someone who didn’t even come up to his shoulder. “You’re staring. It’s very sweet, but they just need a little time alone.”

“I’m not-- I am, yeah, but I’m worried,” Karkat said, voice pitched low. Across the room, Roxy was putting another log on the fire, humming to herself. Apparently she wasn’t concerned with the Strider interrogation going on outside.

“Dirk isn’t so scary. I’ve learned he’s soft like warm chocolate once you get past all his bluster and that _wall_ of words he likes throwing about. It’s just quite the wall to chip away at.” She swung her hip into him, smiling. “I’d worry about _yourself_ more than Dave.”

“Yeah?” Karkat turned, putting his back to the glass door. He had to stop, to look at anything else. His claws tapped against the island at his back. “How so?”

“Human familial structures are so intricate and fascinating! Roxy’s family is especially unorthodox. They’re all siblings, but divided into little pairs that are especially pale for each other, and the older twins act almost parental to the youngers, but between them, Roxy is the obvious head of family. And from what Rose and I have discussed pretty extensively, Dave is seen as the _baby_ since he was the last to rejoin the group after they were all separated very young.” Her voice was a bright patter of keen interest. Karkat never knew what to think of her mixing up Alternian romance terms with other species, but she wasn’t really _wrong_ , so. Karkat’d had similar thoughts before. “Point being, you’re having this lovely flushed relationship with the baby of the family. That not a position I would want to be in, though I have no doubt you are ready and well-equipped to defend yourself.”

“It’s not flushed,” Karkat muttered, sighing. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his quadrant thing, especially with a self-styled scholar of alien romance structures, no matter how nice she was about it. “Would it be so much to ask for this family not to be so goddamn embedded in each others’ lives?”

“You bet your pert ass it would!” Roxy called from the living area.

“Roxy!” Calliope called back, cheeks burning green, scandalized. “Darling, at least _pretend_ you aren’t eavesdropping!”

“Can’t, my arms are so fulla all these eaves, can’t help it, they keep slippin’ my grip and clattering to the floor, whoops.” She joined them in the kitchen area, leaning on the island opposite Karkat, smirking at him. “Anyways, it’s all good. You brought him back to us in one piece and, gotta be honest, looking better than when he left. That earns you points, boss. Might even spare you the shovel talk.”

Looking better… Yeah. He was. The early strain in Dave’s face, how his expression and body would default to this unhappy set every time he thought Karkat wasn’t looking, had faded. There were still moments when Karkat caught him looking so dejected and sullen it was painful to see, but it was happening less and less, especially since their trip together.

Small steps. Karkat didn’t mind being there to hold Dave’s hand through each one.

The timer on the oven dinged. “Sweet! Food’s done, just gotta sit. I’ll saute up that spinach now. Callie, go grab the boys, tell them it’s dinnertime.” She ran her knuckles over the smooth curve of Calliope’s skull as she walked by.

“Can I help?” Karkat asked, watching her go to the oven and take out a large, dark roast. It smelled fucking awesome, holy shit.

“You can grab yourself a beer from the fridge and go sit down. Guests don’t help in the kitchen, boss, what backwater planet did _you_ come from?” She snapped a towel in his vague direction. “Shoo. Out of my domain.”

* * *

There was a ridiculous amount of food for even so many people. Calliope cleared off half the dining table for them to sit, and even then Roxy elected to sit at the island to give them room, sitting turned to watch over them all. She’d created a fucking _spread_ , with a delicious, perfectly cooked hunk of moobeast, fat baked potatoes with sour cream and cheddar, a pan of garlicky spinach, salt gravy, and some round puffy savory bread rolls that Dave called “popovers” and Calliope called “puddings.”

Karkat sincerely regret the sandwich he’d had in Chicago. There wasn’t enough room for all the food. Watching Calliope drizzle honey on random parts of her plate helped abate his appetite a bit though.

Dirk kept glancing askance at Karkat through dinner, like he was about to say something. He never managed to put words to whatever his little glares meant, though, just asked Karkat to pass down the gravy.

That was going to happen eventually, though. Despite Roxy’s teasing, he could feel the line of tension between them. He had the idea that only Dave sitting between them kept Dirk’s mouth in check.

Roxy fended off Karkat’s attempts to help clean up after dinner, bodily pushing him over to the living room. Guests weren’t allowed to do that either it seemed. That rule didn’t protect Dirk, whose “turn” it was to do dishes. It gave them some space away from the walking thundercloud himself.

To his lack of surprise, Dave squeezed in next to him when he sat on the loveseat, shimmying over to occupy more of Karkat’s cushion than his own. His head bumped Karkat’s shoulder, and Karkat obligingly put an arm around him.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey. How’re you doing? Surviving okay so far? Family being nice?”

It was funny that Dave was asking _him_ if he was doing okay after that uncomfortable feelings jam he’d been through with Dirk. “I can handle them. What about you? Have a good talk?”

Dave hummed, and somehow leaned more heavily on Karkat, eyes shutting for a moment. “It was fine. I can handle Dirk.”

Turning his head, Karkat’s lips brushed Dave’s hair as he pitched his voice low. “We can still make a getaway if we need. I’ll be your Tracy Chapman.”

Dave lifted his head, grinning openly. “I knew you listened to my mixtape.”

“Yeah, yeah. Some human music isn’t awful.”

“How long are you going to keep up this shit about troll media superiority? You _live_ here. You are fuckdeep in our media.”

Karkat just slid his hand down Dave’s skin, claws clenching just slightly on his side, feeling him shiver at the sensation. Good.

Calliope joined them, taking the corner of the couch furthest from the loveseat and trying to look _very_ intently at the TV as she turned it on and flipped through the guide. Karkat kept his hand light on Dave, in case he wanted to move away, get some distance.

He didn’t, and they sat there like that though a few movies in Calliope’s Netflix queue, Dave’s hand curled lightly over Karkat’s thigh.

The night wore on. Eleven-ish was unanimously decided to be time for pajamas and nightcaps. By the time he’s halfway through the drink Roxy handed him, Karkat’s stopped giving a fuck about the narrow orange glare that was sometimes finding its way to him.

Hard to give a shit with Dave warm and heavy against his side. _Surprise, Strider. Your family isn’t allergic to contact with people they don’t share blood with._

It was nearing midnight when the front door of the house unlocked and opened. Roxy paused in the middle of her story about her last job in Budapest, her first as extractor, to bounce off the sofa and circle around to the entryway. “Damn, girl, you look rough.”

“I was stuck at LAX,” Rose said tiredly. “Five and a half hours of my life lost in sacrifice to the altar of air travel.”

“Could be worse. Dave and Karkat had to survive O’Hare.”

“Dave’s here?”

At that, Dave unwedged himself from Karkat’s side, climbing off and giving his shoulder a little squeeze as he went to join them in the entryway. “Hey, sis.”

Karkat turned his head just enough to watch out of his peripheral. Across the room, he saw Dirk doing the same.

Rose did look worn from her long journey. For once, her immaculate makeup was missing, her eyes seeming less bright for it, and her hair had that mussed bit in the back from having her head resting against a chair for too long. She stood still as Dave nearly loomed over her, his hands hanging limp at his sides.

“Hello, Dave. It’s good to see you.”

Her arm moved, just a jerk of motion before she apparently thought better of it and stopped. So it was Dave who stepped forward and put his arms around her in a long-limbed embrace, his head dropping until his nose was resting against her hair.

Rose wasted no time hugging him back, her eyes closing.

Very suddenly the superfluous third wheel of a two-wheeled device, Roxy left them to it. “Dave, help Rose to her room, mmkay?”

He nodded, and after a few more seconds broke the embrace to reach down and grab Rose’s roller bag.

They both vanished down the hallway, out of sight.

“So,” Dirk said before they’d even finished rounding the corner.

Calliope sighed and slid off the sofa to take her glass to the kitchen, safely out of the crossfire. He couldn’t blame her.

Karkat turned on the loveseat to face Dirk, his elbow on the armrest, chin in his hand. “So.”

“Hang on, hang on a sec,” Roxy said, hurrying back to them and dropping herself down on the sofa, sitting closest to Dirk’s armchair. “We’ve been waiting for this moment so long. Dirk, don’t be a prick about it.”

“I wasn’t going to. I have legitimate concerns over the welfare of my most precious baby brother,” Dirk said, staring at Karkat as he spoke. “As far as boys for Dave to bring home to meet the family, don’t know if I how Vantas measures up. You put Dave through two hellacious dreams, you clear him when he shouldn’t be working in the industry, not to mention what he went through in _my_ subconscious while you were his extractor.” Roxy covered her eyes with her hand, looking pained and muttering Dirk’s name under her breath in dismay. “And if all that weren’t damning enough, you haven’t made an honest man of him yet? The hell’s that about? What are your intentions with my brother, Vantas?”

Over in the kitchen, Calliope let out a tittering giggle.

“Honest--” Karkat had been waiting for Dirk to start with him all night, but this wasn’t what he expected. Except under the easy humor, there was a bite.

None of it was wrong.

“Are you seriously asking Karkat to put a ring on it?” Roxy asked, laughing.

“He’s also about ten years older than Dave. Isn’t that the sort of shit they talked about on the news all the time back around first contact? How the trolls were going to be after our nubile young humans?”

“Did you just call Dave _nubile_? Have you see him?”

“If there’s an Alternian sugar daddy on the line, he could learn. Striders do what it takes to survive.”

“This says so much about your relationship with Jake.”

Dirk’s eyes finally unlocked from Karkat’s, turning on Roxy with something like muted betrayal. All emotions on Dirk’s face seemed somehow muted, though. “This conversation is not about the English Conundrum and we won’t be discussing it tonight. Keep on topic, Lalonde, or you’ll be escorted out of this symposium.”

Roxy stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well,” Karkat said, picking up his empty glass and standing. “I’m just going to--”

She flung an accusing finger in his direction. “Sit your fine ass down, Karkat, we are not finished with you!”

“Do not let our digression-prone natures fool you,” Dirk intoned. “You are in the fuckin’ hotseat.”

Roxy leaned forward on her knees, smiling. “We’d just like to know what you want from Dave. And to remind you that we are a dangerous duo with a lot of resources at our disposal.”

As if he needed the reminder. Even before they were terrorizing the early dreamshare scene, they were accomplished at… extra-legal shit. A careful rationing of constructive violence was almost their calling card, and according to Dave, Roxy was some sort of internet securities protege besides. He’d always deep down thought of them as more dangerous than Dave, and sitting alone with them under their identical scrutiny was a strong goddamn reminder.

The Strider-Lalonde family didn’t know how not to be in control of a situation, and if Karkat survived this trip, he’d be taking Dave away from them again.

Or, no. That made something itch in Karkat’s spine. Dave would be coming _with him_ again. Which was an entirely different thing, and he wasn’t sure if Roxy and Dirk understood that. Especially Dirk.

“What I want,” Karkat said, measuring the words over his tongue. “I want to build a time machine and ensure Dave never so much as looked at a PASIV in his life. Even if it means we never met, I’d take it. But since that’s not possible, I’ll take the next best thing. I want to keep him from going stir-crazy as he figures out what he wants to do next, and if he’d like it to include me, I’ll consider that a bonus. I want to protect him from… everything. Including you, if need be.” Dirk’s brows narrowed into a pissed off line. “Fuck off, Strider. He’s recovering. So are you. He needs the space and I want to give it to him for as long as he’ll let me. Just because I love him doesn’t mean I’m _keeping_ him. I’m not an asshole-- not _that_ kind of asshole. And if you’re worried about my priorities, let me remind your ungrateful ass that when it came down to it, I extracted _him_ , not you.” The memory of that, of having technically fucked up the entire fucking job and left it in Jake’s hands (no matter how capable they ended up being) stung even now. “I don’t have my fucking priorities straight but he’s clearly one of them. The biggest one right now. Is that a fucking satisfactory answer, Strider?”

There was a pretty decent chance Karkat was not going to survive this visit. Or the next five minutes. Dirk’s face didn’t even shift or change, but the stillness in him felt fragile, like a bottle that was going to crack and unleash a storm.

Roxy put her hand on Dirk’s knee and smiled. “He loves him.”

Blood rushed to Karkat’s face. He refused to take it back. He wasn’t a wiggler anymore, for fuck’s sake. He was an adult Alternian with an adult human he cared about, so fucking what.

Dirk let out a breath, sitting back in his chair, head slumping back against the cushion and turned vaguely in Roxy’s direction. All the fight in him just vanished. “Yeah, fine. But if Dave gets hurt again, I’m going after Vantas with a sword.”

“If I hurt Dave again, I’ll let you. Now can we end this fucking awful conversation and pretend we’re mature sentient beings with a modicum of sense in their thinkpans? I know for your bloodline, that’s a stretch, but try to follow your dreams.”

Dirk’s lips twitched. “Yeah. And thanks, by the way. For…” He tapped two fingers against his temple. “Don’t think I ever said.”

Flipping from being an accusatory pile of hoofbeast shit to thanking Karkat for his dubious role in saving him from his subconscious. Fucking Striders. No amount of time living on Earth could explain the intricate and bizarre machinations of their minds. Thank fuck for that.

* * *

**> Dave: Denouement.**

Spending time with Rose was still strange. He’d kind of hoped that over time, as he figured shit out and they worked on things, it’d all backslide into the normalcy he’d spent so much of his life with. But if anything, standing in her guest room with her was even _weirder_. She stood carefully, like she was afraid to disturb the air around her, and Dave felt something way too close to fear as he tried to reach out.

When she turned from him, dabbing her eyes and apologizing under her breath, his own vision swam, and…

Sitting on the edge of her bed together and being weepy pathetic assholes wasn’t a thing they’d shared before, was not part of their huge and impressive wheelhouse of codependency. Passing tissues between their laps was new.

Maybe all the old things they did were really broken and discarded. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the moments taking their place, but he’d figure it out.

Rose washed her face with a wipe from her luggage and kissed his cheek before heading to the living room to greet the rest of the family.

Dave… was fucking exhausted, and hoped no one would notice if he slunk off to bed. In the morning, he’d have more energy and he’d do a better job being a member of the goddamn family. But tonight, he felt his weariness like a stone on his chest, weighing down on his lungs and making him yawn over and over, _tired_.

Stepping quietly, Dave ducked into the other guest room, and halted just inside the door. Karkat was on the bed, laying out in his pajamas still, an arm flung over his eyes.

“Hey.” Shutting the door behind, Dave crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to Karkat’s hip. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Karkat said. He did not sound okay. “Been awake almost twenty-one hours now. Gonna turn in.” He lowered his arm, squinting up against the lamp light. His eyes tracked over Dave’s face, probably taking in the splotchiness and general aesthetic of lukewarm shit that Dave was rocking. “Oh. Did… how’d it go with Rose?”

Dave shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. It’s going, but I don’t know where. I… don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Need that getaway?”

That he remembered brought a smile to Dave’s face. “No. Not yet.”

Without another word, Karkat nodded, and sat up, bracing himself to lift up and shove the covers out from under his ass. “Come on, then.”

Fucking _gladly_. Dave peeled off his tee and kicked off his pants, letting them fall to the floor, in the perfect position to be clumsily grabbed at in the morning on the way to the bathroom before he bothered to open his eyes. Planning for the future was important, even if he could only manage a few hours at a time right now.

The bed smelled like a different fabric softener than they used at home, and the night was full of the distant sound of screaming nocturnal insects rather than the soft lap of waves against the rock beach. But Karkat felt the same, hot against his back through his thin shirt, arm heavy like an anchor around his waist. He could hold onto that bit of familiarity and follow it down to sleep.

With the lamp off and just moonlight spread over the bed, pouring blue-white in through the window, Dave shut his eyes, reaching down to curl his hand around Karkat’s wrist. “Thanks,” he whispered into the dark.

“F’r what?” Karkat mumbled.

“Comin’ with me here.” And a lot of other shit Dave was… too tired to find the words for right now.

He figured Karkat knew anyway. There was a deep pause before Karkat nudged his mouth against the knot at the top of Dave’s spine, lips moving against it. “Welcome. Now go t’sleep.”

Tomorrow, he’d sit next to Rose at breakfast and figure out how best to make her blush with his color commentary about her visits with Kanaya. He’d glare down Dirk every time he started to say something that crossed the line from ironic jackassery into genuine jackassery. He’d let Calliope show him how to get honey out of the apiaries and try the different flavors they had bottled up. And he’d let Roxy put her arms around him and hold him close for no other reason than she needed to, and he didn’t mind.

Tonight, he listened to Karkat’s steady breathing until it was his own.

“‘kay,” Dave sighed, smiling against the pillow as unconscious unfurled around him, calm and safe without the spectre of dreams to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Cass, Kace, and Chai, for betaing. And thanks Hex for letting me cry on your shoulder because writing is haaard.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the enthusiasm, for the comments, for reading.
> 
> See you with the next fic.


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